The Trials
by timunderwood9
Summary: Darcy never met Elizabeth at Pemberley. Years later Lady Catherine blackmails Darcy into agreeing to marry Anne. Elizabeth had become the governess to Lady Catherine's unwanted ward. Darcy is torn between duty to Georgiana and love for Elizabeth. Then something terrible threatens to tear them apart forever...
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

August 1812

The trees were bedecked with waving green leaves, and the endless drowsy buzzing of insects filled the world. Puffy white clouds sat here and there high in the air, while a brilliant yellow sun beamed down upon them.

It was a bloody hot day.

Darcy looked down the road. He looked at his horse. The stallion looked back with a dour expression that questioned the soundness of his master's mind.

Darcy looked down the road again.

His horse was right.

It would be a miserable ride.

The heat shimmered along the unshaded portions of the road. It was not even noon.

Caroline Bingley had thrown a completely reasonable fit at being asked to travel straight through the heat of the day. So the carriages had paused to wait until afternoon in the shade of an inn.

A hawk swung about in the air, turning in vast lazy circles. Its piercing eyes studied the ground for some rabbit or mouse foolish enough to move about on such a day.

Miss Bingley thought she was like that hawk, and he was a rabbit who'd be frozen in the inn: Proximity leading love, and all.

Dash it all. It was a hot day, but he didn't want to be fawned over for the next five hours with no chance to escape. He would ride out to Pemberley. He'd already told Bingley and his family that he would. There was a minor matter of business that he'd used as an excuse.

It would be so deuced nice to get away from Miss Bingley's deuced nattering.

The worst part of Miss Bingley was that seeing her reminded him about their time in Hertfordshire. And that made him remember Elizabeth Bennet.

Everything made him remember Elizabeth.

Not again. He didn't want to feel sad again. He was tired of that.

Elizabeth had been right to reject him. But that did not make him hurt less. He had not been worthy of such a woman. It was not an easy fact to live with.

From the very beginning, your manners, impressing me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of the feelings of others. And I had not known you a month before I felt you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry.

Every time he remembered that, it hurt in his stomach and his chest and behind his eyes.

The way Miss Bingley disdained everyone who was not wealthy reminded Darcy. He now strove to overcome himself. To become a man who would have been worthy of Elizabeth.

Being trapped in Miss Bingley's company for an entire day without any chance for solitude was more than Darcy wished to face. He would rather face the heat of the midday sun and the sweaty road.

Footsteps kicked up the dust behind him. Bingley stood at Darcy's shoulder and looked down the sun-baked road. "Hot day, eh?"

Darcy grunted.

"Exceptional temperatures — even for the season! — I doubt there are more than a half dozen days this hot in the course of a year. The innkeeper told us quite a story. Yesterday a man riding along the road had a seizure and collapsed dead — killed by the heat. The doctor said there was no water left in his blood — the man had sweated it all away."

"Bingley."

His friend openly grinned at Darcy.

"I am aware of the heat. You do not need to pass along stories about how hot it is."

Bingley shrugged his shoulders, as though he was not doing his best to needle Darcy. "Those big trees cover the inn. Excellent shade. It is not hot at all inside. The cellar is quite deep too. The ale is cool to the taste!"

Darcy glanced at his friend from the edge of his eye and then looked back at the road. The sooner he started the sooner he'd be back at Pemberley. He would throw off his coat and jump into the pond before going back into the house. It would be only… Darcy looked up at the glaring sun and pursed his lips. Just four hours on the road.

"Darcy. I will say it straight out. You are being a bad sport. Don't leave me alone with so many ladies."

Darcy grunted again, without looking away from the shimmering heat of the road. "Mr. Hurst will be with you, he is your brother."

"Haha. He will just sleep until we start off again. It will be me listening to Caro's complaints all afternoon." Bingley cringed at the thought. "You are more my brother than Hurst — you can become just as much my brother as him."

Darcy eyeballed Bingley with a severe glare.

Bingley grinned back brightly, and then theatrically wiped his forehead. "That business can easily wait till we all arrive at Pemberley. Your goal is to avoid Caro for the rest of the day. Don't pretend with me."

Darcy sighed. He'd invited Bingley to Pemberley with him, and yet he'd been a poor companion on the road. For a few weeks Darcy had thought the sadness of being refused by Elizabeth had left him, but it was returning, along with a desperate desire to be alone.

"It is not only your sister. I must deal with this matter of business. If I do not go now, I will need to take an hour at least to deal it with tomorrow. I do not wish to be rude then."

"So you will be rude today?"

Darcy asked himself, as he did often, what Elizabeth would think. If Bingley insisted on his presence, he should stay and do his best to enjoy being part of the party.

Darcy looked back at the road. The sun glinted garishly back at him. It was a deuced unpleasant day. With his luck a party of touring gentlewomen would find him in his soaked shirtsleeves right after he jumped into the pond.

"You have convinced me." Darcy was amused by the notion of running across a guest while having just taken a dip in the lake. "I have no choice. I will deal with the matter after we arrive at Pemberley tomorrow morning, and you will get to listen to your sister praise Pemberley without my help for an hour…"

Bingley laughed. "No one is like you when it comes to managing business matters."

Fifty miles to the north a young woman and her aunt or uncle prepared to visit one of the greatest country estates of England before heading on to the nearby small town where her aunt was born. Neither she nor Bingley, nor Darcy had any notion how Bingley's begging Darcy to deal with the business matter the next day would drastically change the course of their lives.

Chapter One

July 1816, Rosings Park

Elizabeth Bennet sneaked along the edge of the hallway while firmly gripping her mischievous pupil's hand.

Jumping into a pond with all her clothes!

From Emma's smirk it was clear that she knew Elizabeth's disapproval was only halfhearted. How could it be more? It was hot and jumping into the pond was fun.

Elizabeth had jumped into more than two, but less than twenty, ponds as a child. However, Elizabeth had a loving father. She had not been the ward of Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

"What!"

Elizabeth winced and jumped at the piercing voice of her employer.

"What is the meaning of this!"

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The sound of Lady Catherine's cane echoed as she scowled her way to them.

Emma squeezed Elizabeth's hand tightly. She stared wide eyed at her guardian, waiting to see what she would do. Emma was terrified of Lady Catherine, and Elizabeth had ceased to find the woman amusing.

"Miss Bennet. Miss Bennet, is this how you abuse my generosity? How you abuse the trust I have given? How you abuse my goodwill while you remain in my service?"

Elizabeth curtsied, smoothly holding her skirts out with her left hand, and not letting Emma's hand go. "I shall do better, and Emma shall be punished, Lady Catherine."

"Muddy! This skirt is muddy. Mud!" Lady Catherine poked her cane into Emma's stomach. "What did you do to disorder your clothing, you troublesome and disobedient wretch?"

Emma was pale, but she'd learned from the beatings that had been given to her before Elizabeth took the post of governess to never lie to Lady Catherine if there was any possibility of being caught.

"I jumped into a pond, Madam."

"Into a pond! A pond! You jumped into filth. Your mother also jumped. She jumped into sinful relations with a man and filthied the de Bourgh name and brought mud into the bloodline of my husband's family. It is a good thing she died. She was an evil creature. You will not be like her. I will see you cease to jump into filth!"

Emma squeezed the hand Elizabeth held so tight it hurt; she was pale and her face was drawn into a painful grimace. It had only been five months since Emma's mother died, and she still worshipped the woman's memory.

Lady Catherine pounded her cane sharply on the marble floor. The crack echoed along the gallery. "Turn around."

Emma did so and bent over. Lady Catherine struck the girl sharply on the backside four times with her cane. Emma bit her lips, but did not cry out.

Lady Catherine looked critically at the girl. "You are a very wicked girl to resist your punishment so. Very wicked. But I have placed you under another. It is her responsibility to see to your welfare. Miss Bennet, spare the rod and spoil the child. The girl is a bastard. Her existence is a result of a terrible sin and dirtiness. Spare not the rod! If we do not act, the sins of the mother shall visit themselves upon the child. Care you not for her future?"

"I have punished her."

"Not enough. If you had she would not have…jumped into a pond. A muddy pond! I do not like dirt on girls' clothing. Girls should be little gentlewomen. Clean and nice smelling. Anne never filthied her clothing. I shall order Mrs. Shore to allow neither Emma, nor you to have dinner tonight. You shall take that punishment with Emma."

Lady Catherine then bent over and presented her cheek to Emma for the little girl to kiss her. Emma stared angrily at Lady Catherine, but she knew it was better to do what she was ordered, so she stiffly kissed her guardian's cheek.

Lady Catherine stood. "You will see to it that this never happens again. No more filth on Emma."

Elizabeth curtsied. "It shall not happen again."

"I might dismiss you. I perhaps ought dismiss you. You do not seem to care enough for Emma."

Elizabeth's stomach froze at the threat. Every time Lady Catherine threatened to separate her from Emma terror spiked through her: Maybe this time she really meant it. The old woman saw Elizabeth's frightened reaction, and Elizabeth thought that was why she made the threat so often.

"Tut, tut. I expect better from you." Lady Catherine softly tapped her cane against Elizabeth's cheek. Elizabeth did not move to stop her. "A great risk. I took a great risk in hiring you. A woman with barely an education, and a scandalous family."

"I am grateful for your kindness and condescension. And for your advice. Always for your advice."

"No. No, you are not. You yet think as a gentlewoman who believes the world is hers by right. But you have fallen. You are gently born — that can never be taken from you. But you are a dependent. You must extinguish that spark of pride still in your eyes."

"I shall try, Madam," Elizabeth lied.

"You would be sent back to that little house your uncle has taken. Was it not three of you to a room? He shall never pay all the debts caused by his bankruptcy, no matter how much of your wages you send him."

Emma shuffled closer to Elizabeth. Elizabeth knew she was also terrified of Elizabeth being dismissed. That was the real reason she had been willing to kiss the old lady's cheek.

The small hand trembled in Elizabeth's. Emma's eyes were dry. She was determined to never cry in front of Lady Catherine. It was Emma who kept Elizabeth here. Not fear of returning to poverty. If Elizabeth left, there would be no one to care for Emma and protect her from Lady Catherine.

"I expect you to punish her the next time. I should not need to drive you to it."

"I shall."

"You must hit her right." Lady Catherine pursed her lips and tapped her cane softly on the marble hallway floor. "I gave you a paddle. You have no excuse for not striking her regularly. Spare the rod and spoil the child. Use variety — do not only strike on the rump — you can see Miss Williams is now accustomed to that. Strike her sometimes on the hands and even the face. I have told you, I have shown you, but still she disobeys. Perhaps it is inevitable, given the nature of her parents, but she is as much a human as you and I. Half her blood is among the best in the land. We must try to raise her right."

"Yes, Madam. My sole thought, day and night, is how I can help Emma." Elizabeth squeezed the small hand in hers. That was true, though her promises to punish Emma with beatings were all lies.

"Yes, yes, yes. We are both devoted to her welfare. But you are too…too —" Lady Catherine slapped her free hand on the back of the hand holding her cane. "Aha! You act like a mother. You have not the instincts of a governess. That indulgence will destroy her character. It is a pity the misfortunes of your family make it impossible for you to marry. You might do well as a mother and wife. Emma has no mother, just as she has no father. The Lord wisely took Emma's mother to the hell she earned through her sinfulness." Lady Catherine waved her hand. "Enough of this. Off with you. Off with you both."

Elizabeth pulled Emma into a servant's staircase. When they were alone, Elizabeth tightly embraced her charge, not caring that bits of a water lily stuck onto her own dress. "Are you well, Emmy, dear?"

She nodded against Elizabeth's chest, starting to cry.

Elizabeth kissed the top of her head. "She is why you can't run and jump in ponds."

Emma nodded, sniffling. "I wish I was at home. I wish my Mama hadn't died."

"I wish my Papa hadn't, darling. But we make the best of what we have. And you didn't cry in front of Lady Catherine. I am so proud of you. You deserve something for that. After you are dressed, I have some of that chocolate I bought when we went to the market. Do you remember?"

Emma nodded tearily.

Elizabeth squeezed her. "You've been such a good girl that you deserve the rest of it."

 **AN: So here is my newest book. A story of love and adversity, and Lady Catherine's madness. Unfortunately, like always, I'm not going to be able to publish it here for a year because I am putting it in Amazon's Kindle Unlimited Library. The good news is that if you are a subscriber you can read the whole thing immediately, or if you can buy it on Amazon. I can write these books because of the readers who support me.**

 **Over the next week or so I will post two more chapters, so you can get teased a bit more by the teaser.**

 **The other, even better news, is that at last my fourth book, _A Dishonorable Offer_ will leave the kindle library on June 22 and within a few days of that I will start posting it here. I am still travelling in Europe so the upload schedule might be a bit erratic, but follow the story if you want to know when the updates start.**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The young maid fluttered with red-cheeked pleasure when she brought the creature into Lady Catherine's red upstairs sitting room via the servant's entrance.

Disgust. Filth. Perversion and dissolution.

Simply needing to share her air with this man made Lady Catherine's skin crawl. She had set up collections of candles to burn in hopes they would remove the taint from the air, even though that made the room stuffy and unpleasant in the midsummer heat.

Mr. Wickham grinned at her, his handsome face alight with delight. He grinned like he was entirely pleased to see her. She had forgotten how handsome her brother-in-law's godson was.

Such a smile!

Lady Catherine scowled as Mr. Wickham planted a kiss on the servant's cheek. "Pamela. A delight. A delight. Now off with you."

The girl giggled as she exited.

He was seducing her servants!

Pamela was an excellent maid, a fine replacement for the woman who'd been her personal maid before she married. If she became with child, this interview would have cost even more than the money she would need to lay out to gain the man's cooperation. It was so difficult to find a woman who did her hair just right without pulling.

Any woman from the lower classes could be seduced by Mr. Wickham; they had not the breeding to resist someone who could pretend to be a gentleman in the way he did.

Wickham walked up. Charm oozed out of his every pore. His coat suited him, and the fabric clung to his broad shoulders. "My dear, dear Cathy. You have grown yet younger and more beautiful. Alas, if only I was not so far beneath you, I would try to kiss you."

"Wickham! Cease to treat me in such an insolent manner."

"Hahahaha. I simply praise your beauty; it is exceptional. And further you have that which is worth more than simple good looks — the distinguished appearance of one with the Fitzwilliam blood."

Helplessly Lady Catherine giggled at his smirk. She hated dealing with Mr. Wickham more than she did any other man. "Wickham! Do not mock me."

The young man took her hand in a gesture that was too quick for Lady Catherine to pull away. He kissed it softly. "I can die happy, now at last." He winked at her. "What service do you wish me to perform for you?"

"I…that is, I…"

He looked into her eyes, and Lady Catherine found herself stuttering. He had such beautiful eyes. She abruptly pushed him away. "Cease attempting to make love to me!"

"To you? But it is impossible to resist." Wickham laughed and stepped away. He walked to her mirror and started to readjust the line of his cravat. "Do speak. I am listening. Cathy, this is a fine mirror. Is that frame made of that imported wood from Brazil? I cannot recall its name. And the silver backing! So well made! I always look at mirrors whenever I enter a room. It tells me so much about the character of the owner. Your mirrors are very revealing."

Wickham turned away from the mirror to display the complicated wave of his cravat. "What do you think? Fine is it not? The best I could do so quickly, but the knot had become dreadfully undone on the journey. Pamela sneaked me in so quick that I had no opportunity to refresh myself."

"Have you heard that my niece is to marry in two months?"

"No." Wickham's imperturbable mask slipped for a moment, and he drew his lips together in an almost hurt expression. Then it smoothed out. "Georgiana? Hmmmm. She is to marry at last. I hope she is happy. I long since lost that hope. But what of it for me — Oh. I have a guess. I shall owe myself ten pounds if I am right. Do you want to guess what my guess is?" He waggled his finger back and forth. "You are being a very naughty girl, Cathy."

He winked at her and blew a kiss, while keeping that rakish smile that made her elderly stomach flutter.

This creature who had proven the moral inferiority of Georgiana. "You seduced her!"

"Jealous? Do not be, my love is like the rain which falls upon all who are out to receive it." He leaned his head close to hers and looked deep into her eyes. "Your place in my heart will always be safe."

"Wickham!"

"I did not take her maidenhead, if that is how you believe I seduced her. She was too young and too behaved. I prefer lively girls. It would have seemed…wrong to sleep with her before a marriage."

Wickham was lying. Lady Catherine was sure that her filthy, filthy niece had let herself be defiled by this creature. And now that besmirched girl intended to contaminate another noble house with the filthiness she'd received from Wickham.

Kindly laying his hand over hers Wickham softly said, "I will tell anyone you wish that I did seduce her — if that is your wish. But I do not lie easily. Dishonesty is bad for my blood, and when I lie, I must see doctors for the pain it causes me. Expensive doctors." Wickham looked at Lady Catherine and grinned. "I even have an old sheet that was bloodied when I met a quite different virgin. I could produce it. I still know Mrs. Younge and she would be quite happy to confirm that I took the girl's maidenhead."

Georgiana had filthied herself with him. She was no better than the mother of that wild girl Lady Catherine had been forced to take on because everyone else was dead. Even though desire was natural, a woman of true breeding would resist. The thought of Georgiana happily married to an earl… It sickened Lady Catherine. "Yes! Yes! Do it! Tell that man, that earl who will marry her. Tell him everything! Warn him about Georgiana's character so he knows not to soil himself with your leavings."

"Ahhhh…" Wickham blinked and in a far less elegant gesture than his usual, he scratched at the back of his head. "That is not at all what I believed you wished. To actually harm her I shall need even more expensive doctors for the pain it shall cause me inside. I am still quite fond of Georgiana, the memory of my beloved godfather, and my sense of honor and chivalry—"

"No, no." Lady Catherine shook her head to clear the confusion. She wished to punish Georgiana for her weakness, but that was not her plan. "Darcy. My nephew must be brought to heel, like the disobedient dog he has been — you can prove that you defiled my filthy niece?"

"I would happily prove that, so long as you pay me enough. I would not wish to offend Mr. Darcy, he is quite good with his pistol. Though I am his superior with other manly games." Wickham winked at her again and lowered his eyes with a smirk to admire her breasts. While Lady Catherine sputtered he walked to her writing desk and picked up the letter she had been writing on it.

"Put that down!"

"But I am desperate for any clue as to the inner workings of your mind. I cannot tell whether you like me or not — I shall be desolate if you do not. Perhaps you tell your correspondent about your deep feelings for me."

"Look at me. You will, if I tell you to, go to the earl."

"I will, if you give me a thousand pounds."

"A thousand!"

"I like Georgiana. I have fond memories of growing up with her and of that one incredible night your jealous woman's mind insists on imagining occurred between us. Now a gentleman would never speak after taking a girl's maidenhead. Fortunately for your plans I am no gentleman, but…I want a great deal of money."

"Fine. Fine. I'll pay it."

"You will!"

Lady Catherine shook her head in disgust at her own weakness. Wickham clearly had not expected to get as much as he had asked. But she could not bargain harshly when he kept smiling at her in that distracting manner.

"Of course you will pay." Wickham took her hand and kissed it. "You are a generous-hearted and noble woman, and it is a matter of great importance to protect a fellow noble family — I shall need the money immediately."

"I don't care about Lord Chancey! You will not tell anyone unless I send word. It is my disobedient, useless nephew. He'll marry Anne. At last. He will marry Anne, or I will destroy him."

"Aha!" Wickham put the letter he'd pretended to read down and clapped slowly. "I am impressed that you have at last chosen to act so."

Lady Catherine snarled. "He refused to listen! I told him, and I told him, and I told him. I have been kind. No one has ever been kinder to their family than I! I have been understanding. No one has ever been more understanding of their family than I! I have been the best of aunts. No one has ever been a better aunt to their sibling's children than I!"

"Youth today. We never appreciate how much goodness is shown to us by our elders. But I appreciate you. I know you did everything for Fitzy."

"He let his sister be defiled! Despite all I did for him. And he sat at that estate of his, and he never married my daughter! Not in the slightest! How has he dared to disrespect the memory of my sister so! While in their cradles we planned the union!"

"It would be a glorious marriage. Such wealth and lineage on both sides, it is as though they were formed for each other."

Wickham's enthusiasm warmed Lady Catherine's heart.

She added, expressing for once all her frustration, "He even attends local assemblies! He even dined at the house of a tradesman. The shades of Pemberley are thus polluted!"

"Yet you still will bring him to safely marry your daughter. I salute you! Your goodness in acting to protect him from himself is an example for all. You are the best of aunts! Most would not—" In a quick gesture Wickham took her hand. "Cathy. I feel connected to you. There is some spiritual bond betwixt us that transcends the difference in age and class. I feel the goodness of your soul! I wish all could see how beautiful your soul is."

Lady Catherine blushed like a helpless girl at the intensity in his voice. "Thank you. Thank you. It is hard to be so misunderstood by one as close to me as my sister's beloved son."

"I understand you."

"You do — oh, I must give you what I owe."

A small part of Lady Catherine's mind said that a thousand pounds was too little for the service Wickham would perform for her. He too was good, like she was.

Another part of her was gibbering with disgust at how easily she let Wickham charm her. But no one else ever tried to charm her anymore, and they had not for many years.

Lady Catherine pulled out the money box from inside her desk, and gave Wickham four fifty pound notes, then she pulled out her cheques and wrote out a message to her banker, requesting that he give the bearer eight hundred pounds.

Wickham smiled at receiving it and bowed deeply. "It was a delightful delight to speak with you. I shall keep the memory of this afternoon in my heart, and take it from the bottom" — Wickham tapped his stomach — "of my memory often on days when I must remember there is goodness in the world."

He sauntered from the room, with a confident stride, acting as though he were the Lord of the manor and not she.

Once he was gone Lady Catherine blushed and giggled. Then noticing herself she shook herself out of the happy daze Wickham had placed her in.

At last! Darcy had resisted till now. But now he would be brought to obey, and she would punish him.

 **AN: So here is the second chapter - one more sample chapter to come, and then I'm afraid you will need to wait until I remove it from Kindle Unlimited next year (unless you _are_ a subscriber or interested in buying the book... in which case you should go read it now :)**

 **Let me take this moment to recommend that even if you are not interested in supporting _me_ , you should spend some resources supporting those in desperate need. I donate every month to Doctors Without Borders, and you should as well. Many people live with worse medical care than was available 200 years ago to Jane Austen. Together we can give them access to care. Imagine that it was someone who you loved you was sick, and would die without antibiotics or a simple surgery. You would act then. So act now, because everyone has people who love them.**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Fitzwilliam Darcy vaulted off his bay stallion as he reached the end of the gravel carriage way leading up to his aunt's estate. He was tired and sweaty from the long hot ride.

He looked around, noting the neatly mowed grass about him, the tall hedges of rose bushes, the oak and ash trees shading the house on the sides, and the vast prospect down the drive he'd just traveled. There was a deer park, part of what had once been the royal hunting grounds of Henry VIII where he'd courted Anne Boleyn while hunting a few miles from this spot.

Four years since he had been to Rosings.

A thin servant boy ran out to take the reins of Darcy's horse. Darcy smiled at the young lad and tossed him a coin.

The place where Elizabeth refused him. The hint of that old pain was a little present with him, though he had long since recovered from his feelings for her.

The reason he had not married was that such women were rare. He had yet to see a woman in the ballrooms of London or the assemblies of Derbyshire who compared to Elizabeth, and he had looked.

When Darcy received the curt message ordering him to come immediately to Rosings, he had been tempted to ignore his aunt's summons. But she was his aunt.

The butler, Mr. Wood, bowed upon Darcy's entry into the shaded entry hall of the building. "The mistress informed us that you would come, but we did not know when. It shall take half an hour for your room to be prepared. Pamela" — Mr. Wood gestured at a pretty young maid — "will lead you to the room where you can refresh yourself before meeting her Ladyship."

"That is unnecessary, I'll not stay for longer than necessary to speak with her Ladyship. If she does not keep me for long, I can be back to London by nightfall."

"As you wish, sir."

There was something in the stiff bow of Mr. Wood that said that no matter what Darcy said, he would make the room up and expect Darcy to stay in it.

The reason Darcy had never returned had been silly. He had heard of the death of Mr. Bennet, and without Mrs. Collins's presence there was no possibility he would meet Elizabeth here. He didn't want to walk in the park again unless she was there to share that grove with him once more.

The insulting letter Lady Catherine sent in reply to his request that they meet in London instead of Rosings the next year did not encourage him to overcome irrational sentiment. In fact it gave him a quite rational reason to avoid his aunt.

When led to a room to refresh himself, Darcy splashed water over his face and vigorously wiped the dust off. He truly hoped he would not need to stay here overnight.

A pretty young maid who stared at him for a minute and blushed led Darcy to Lady Catherine's sitting room. The Lady sat in a large chair with massive armrests carved to look like lions paws. Her thin blue-veined hands rested on the walnut wood.

Due to the summer heat, all but one of the windows were shaded with light colored curtains to block the sun. But one window's curtains stood open so that the sunlight shined directly upon Lady Catherine, making her sit in a pool of light surrounded by the dimness of the room.

Silly theater. Darcy examined his aunt. She'd gone completely grey since he'd seen her last time and despite the thronelike chair, she looked smaller. Perhaps it was because of the thronelike chair. She could not fill it.

He'd heard about Lady Catherine's recent illness from Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had visited Rosings repeatedly since then. Despite knowing she had been unwell, Darcy was not been prepared for how much older his aunt looked.

There was a chair much too small for a man of Darcy's size in front of Lady Catherine's chair. All of the other seats had been removed from the center of the drawing room and pushed against the walls or removed from the room.

Darcy ignored the chair. He stood in a relaxed pose in the middle of the room. "Lady Catherine. It has been too many years. I am well, and you have heard that Georgiana is to be married, I hope you and Anne will travel to Chancey for the ceremony at the end of August."

"Sit!"

Darcy glanced at the chair. The chair was of an appropriate size for a fourteen year old. It was a small wooden thing. Darcy's legs would be scrunched up if he tried to sit in it. He looked back at Lady Catherine with raised eyebrows.

Did she really expect him to participate in such a theatrical game?

"I order you to sit! You are my nephew, and I am your superior in rank and family position."

Darcy looked back at the chair. His aunt's sense had not improved. Maybe he should simply walk out, but that would also be childish after the length of his ride. He'd known all along having anything to do with his aunt would be a mistake. "What matter do you wish to speak on?"

"You will sit, or I shall make you regret it."

"Lady Catherine, I am here at your request, but my family feeling extends no further than being willing to listen to you."

"You are here to obey. At last! It is time you marry Anne. I am done with your games of delay and resistance."

"Then we have nothing to speak of."

"I know what Georgiana did." Something in Darcy's stomach seized up as Lady Catherine leaned forward, gripping the clawed armrests of her chair with claw-like hands. "Yes! I know. You thought you could hide the filthy behavior of that creature who cannot truly be of the Fitzwilliam blood. But I know. I know!"

"I have no knowledge of what you speak about."

"She…she… It is not a matter a delicate creature such as myself can speak directly of. But you know! You know that thing she did with your father's godson. She is fit to marry no man. You know she is filthy! Yet! Yet you let her marry a man of noble blood such as the Earl of Chancey."

"That is untrue. Georgiana did no —"

"She is filthy! Filthy, I say. That handsome boy seduced her! She threw away her honor, her virtue, her childhood — she is filthy!"

"Madam. I do not know what you have been told, but though you are my aunt, I will not accept this abuse from you."

"She is defiled. Filthy! With Wickham!"

"I must assume Wickham told you that. The truth of the matter is that while she agreed to elope with Mr. Wickham, Georgiana did not—"

"Filthy! You believed her filthy lie. But you are the only one! The whole world — all of England! — shall hear me proclaim her sin. I will go to Chancey, I will go to his mother. I will go to his cousins. I will go to St. James and proclaim it during the cotillion. I shall pronounce it to everyone. Everyone shall hear!"

Lady Catherine's eyes bulged as she continued in a ranting, rising voice, "Everyone! Chancey shall throw filthy Georgiana aside; no one will ever speak to your beloved sister again. It is what she deserves for sporting in such a way with that charming, smiling creature your father doted upon."

"You are insane."

"No — you are the one who has lost his sanity! You accept that filth as your sister! But I shall tell everyone!"

"Madam, we are family — my mother, your sister — if you spoke that way it would profane her memory. You would be involved in scandal — and…and such a plan is insane."

"I am not mad! I know myself better than I ever have! Better than anyone has ever known themselves! I have a beautiful soul!"

The light in her eyes was full of glee. They looked at each other for a long time, Darcy silently testing her resolve.

Lady Catherine said, "I have been too kind to you. But spare the rod and spoil the child. I love you too much to allow you to continue as you have. Do not think I shall hesitate."

"Madam. This is insane. I do not wish to marry your daughter. I do not believe Anne wishes to marry me, so—"

"Do not insult Anne's name. She knows how to obey. Good people know how to obey! If you can't obey, you are not truly my nephew. I will know how to act!"

"If Georgiana — she does not deserve what scorn you would heap on her."

"I have sources! She loves that earl of hers. I'll break her heart, the way you've broken mine by refusing Anne. I will destroy her."

"Madam, we have nothing to speak about ever again. You may do as you will, but you will only expose your madness to the world. I shall not be blackmailed."

Darcy wanted to stalk from the room. But his anxiety for Georgiana held him.

"Then you choose to destroy her once more! It was your failure. Yours! If not for you, and her filthy, defiled, lack of character, she would never have been a victim of that handsome man who does not know his place."

"I beg you madam—"

"I will not be gainsaid. Either agree to marry Anne, and publically announce it this afternoon, or you will have destroyed your sister's happiness! Choose!"

Anne sat quietly in the hothouse when Darcy entered it. She had not heard him open the door, so he watched her — his soon to be betrothed — carefully snip the flowers for a minute.

Darcy felt numb inside, as though he'd received a mortal wound and his interior bled from it, but the shock was too great for him to feel the injury yet. But that was unfair. He looked at Anne. He studied her person. He was repulsed by the thought of sleeping with her. But it was not her fault that he'd never found her person beautiful. It was her fault though that she was too quiet, yet filled with her mother's arrogance.

Anne stood up and she gasped. "Darcy! Such a shock — what brought you here — Oh, no." Her face turned pale. "My mother. She has called you."

"Yes, your mother." Darcy's voice came out in a fast angry clip. "Anne, I have no choice but to ask for your hand. I will marry you if you agree." Her thin face was pale and she stared wide eyed at him. But she said nothing. Darcy added in a growl, "Do answer and make me the happiest man in the world."

The woman flinched and looked towards a bright yellow and orange blossom. She stared quietly at it with a tightly closed expression. The cast of her face told Darcy she was on the verge of tears.

Darcy unclenched his hands and let out a long breath of air. Women cared a great deal for the nature of a proposal speech. It was not Anne's fault; the desire for their union was Lady Catherine's, not her daughter's. "I apologize… It is not you, who…"

"She found some manner with which to control you at last." Anne sighed. She stared at her hands. For a long time nothing was said.

Despite the cloudy sky that had blotted out the blue of the earlier afternoon, the air in the greenhouse was warm and humid, and there was a rich smell of wet dirt and growing plants thick on the air. The flowers bloomed in a profusion of purple, orange, yellow and red. Anne twined her fingers together and shuffled her feet, looking side to side.

Darcy sat down on the small bench in the glass room. "Though this marriage is not what I wish, I promise to always respect you and treat you as I ought, and if there is some consideration you wish as my wife…"

"I do not wish to marry you any more than you wish to marry me! I love another, and I believe he loves me, and I hoped… Oh it doesn't matter! I was stupid! I hoped Mother would forget about you, or she would…die. I've prayed for her to die. But while she lives…"

Anne shivered. "You shall not escape this fate due to my refusal. I suppose she shall wish it quickly."

"As soon as the banns are read. She wishes it to be done properly, and there is enough time for that before Georgiana's wedding. I am to remain at Rosings until then. I will ask Georgiana and Chancey to come for our wedding and during our wedding trip we will go to see her married."

"Ah." Anne looked down again. She seemed to care little for his plans. She entwined her fingers together again, pressing them together until they were white. Tears leaked out the edge of her eyes.

Darcy believed he ought to comfort his betrothed. Perhaps he should put his arm around her, the way the man would to a woman he loved. They were to be married.

Nothing could possibly be more awkward, and he barely knew her.

He sat still and his mind wandered. He would need to write to Georgiana, and he must not let her see how unhappy he was, or else she might suspect the real cause of his marriage.

Suddenly Anne spoke in vibrant yet quiet voice, "I hate her. I hate her. I hate her."

Darcy looked at Anne. He hoped she would show some spirit and refuse him, as she ought. Instead she said, "I accept your kind proposal, Mr. Darcy. I am sure we will be very happy together."

* * *

"Emma, don't run in the halls — you might run into someone!"

The young girl laughed as she sped around the corner. Emma always became rambunctious when it was known there was little chance of seeing Lady Catherine. From around the corner there was a loud ooof of two bodies colliding, and then a girlish giggle.

With trepidation Elizabeth went to see what had happened.

The girl had run into a very tall man with broad shoulders and finely cared for tan buckskin breeches that molded admirably to his hips and the muscular curves of his legs. His smooth lips curled into a handsome and tolerant smile.

Emma backed away from him with a downcast shy look.

Elizabeth's first thought was that this gentleman looked very well indeed. "I do apologize for my ch-charge…" Elizabeth began blushingly, and then she trailed off and stared into the deep eyes of Mr. Darcy.

He held her gaze. Shock was in his eyes as well.

Elizabeth recalled, clearly as day, that last moment of their last meeting. Those same deep blue eyes, his hand holding out the letter, his eyes holding hers. She still kept that letter hidden amongst her most precious belongings.

His words: Will you do me the honor of reading that letter.

Emma drew back behind Elizabeth with a shy look.

Darcy said in a hoarse voice, "Good God! Elizabeth — Miss Bennet, pardon me — are you still Miss Bennet? — what do you do here? To meet you today, of all days. And here."

 **AN: T**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

"Emma, don't run in the halls — you might run into someone!"

The young girl laughed as she sped around the corner. Emma always became rambunctious when it was known there was little chance of seeing Lady Catherine. From around the corner there was a loud ooof of two bodies colliding, and then a girlish giggle.

With trepidation Elizabeth went to see what had happened.

The girl had run into a very tall man with broad shoulders and finely cared for tan buckskin breeches that molded admirably to his hips and the muscular curves of his legs. His smooth lips curled into a handsome and tolerant smile.

Emma backed away from him with a downcast shy look.

Elizabeth's first thought was that this gentleman looked very well indeed. "I do apologize for my ch-charge…" Elizabeth began blushingly, and then she trailed off and stared into the deep eyes of Mr. Darcy.

He held her gaze. Shock was in his eyes as well.

Elizabeth recalled, clearly as day, that last moment of their last meeting. Those same deep blue eyes, his hand holding out the letter, his eyes holding hers. She still kept that letter hidden amongst her most precious belongings.

His words: Will you do me the honor of reading that letter.

Emma drew back behind Elizabeth with a shy look.

Darcy said in a hoarse voice, "Good God! Elizabeth — Miss Bennet, pardon me — are you still Miss Bennet? — what do you do here? To meet you today, of all days. And here."

Elizabeth flushed uncontrollably at the intent look, and the way he instinctively asked her marital status. She replied quietly, "I am still Miss Bennet."

His eyes had grown so deep. Elizabeth remembered he'd asked about what she did, but in that moment she felt such an awkwardness, and a hatred of revealing to him how she had fallen in the world and been forced to work for her survival.

It was a shameful thing to meet a person who had known her in the better days. Before Lydia's destruction of their name, before her father's death, before her uncle's bankruptcy. When she was full of money and shine. It was worse to see Mr. Darcy. He would exult at his escape if he knew of all that had happened to her family.

"You are? Good… I mean, I hope you are happy…and your family, are they well? Of course they are not. Your father died — My deepest condolences, I never spoke more than a few words to him, but he was a clever man who had nurtured you."

Elizabeth felt hot and cold and grief-stricken once again; something she hadn't felt for years. She saw her father that last time they met before she had left for the North, his sharp smile and his hands cradling a book. She looked away from those deep penetrating eyes. "I thank you."

"Miss Bennet, I have long wished… I have thought of you often. It was once my dearest wish that we… But tell me, are you well? Why are you here? Here of all places — surely you cannot seek out my aunt for her own sake?"

Elizabeth placed her hand on Emma's shoulder and looked at the sweet babyish cheeks of her girl. Her life had gone in directions no gentlewoman would wish, and there were hardships which she had faced, but Elizabeth did not repent. "I am Miss Williams's governess."

She squatted slightly and pushed Emma forward, to avoid looking to see how he took the information. "Would you like to meet Mr. Darcy? He is Anne's cousin."

Elizabeth now looked at Darcy and studied his face closely. He was clearly surprised, but he did not draw back, instead he looked at her with a softer smile, one that seemed not pitying but understanding.

Emma shyly examined Darcy, and then when he looked at her, she blushed and looked away, making an awkward curtsey. Emma's expression showed that Darcy's relation to Anne and Lady Catherine was no recommendation to her good opinion.

Darcy bowed elaborately to the little girl. His expression was a little silly. "It is a delight to meet you. I dearly hope you do not give Miss Bennet much trouble. I am quite fond of her. She is a most excellent person."

At this Emma's face became wreathed with a smile, and she nodded eagerly. "Miss Lizzy is wonderful! She is almost as nice as my mother was!"

"Then your mother must have been very nice."

Elizabeth laughingly pushed Emma's head. "You do not need to brag about me, I shall not punish you for the truth."

"I believe she did tell the truth." Darcy winked at Emma, and the girl giggled. Just like that Emma had decided she liked Mr. Darcy. Without yet knowing why, Elizabeth was glad about it.

"Miss Williams — that is a very nice last name, is your first name as pretty?"

She glanced at Elizabeth, and then smiled at Darcy. "It is Emma."

"Emma! That is one of the very best names I have ever heard. Your mother was quite a genius at naming things."

"She was. She could name anything! She would walk around and point out things to me, and have me remember the names for everything. Lizzy does that too!"

"Does she?"

Mr. Darcy looked back at her with his broad grin. "That is a clever way to teach the words."

Goodness! From Darcy's expression Elizabeth was sure that he enjoyed the interaction. She never would have guessed he was so sweet with children, and yet it did not surprise her at all. Elizabeth bit her lip and beamed back at him.

"So, Emma — do you mind if I use your Christian name? I believe we are to be the best of friends. How long has Miss Lizzy" — Darcy smirked at her as he used the shortening of the name — "been your governess?"

"Fie! Darcy, fie!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "Trying to pull information from a child."

Emma said, "Four months! I was very sad before that, because my Mama had died, and because I was all alone, and because Lady Catherine is always so mean to me, and there was nothing to do, and I was in trouble any time I did anything fun. This house is so ugly! But when Lizzy came, it all was much better. I love her."

"That is a quite wise attitude."

Emma nodded in decided agreement.

"I thought I would hate her because I hate Lady Catherine, but—"

"Emma! Don't say such things."

"But—"

"No—" Darcy's pleasant smile fell away in an instant and he straightened and put a hand on Emma's shoulder. "You are as wise in hating Lady Catherine as you are in…in loving Lizzy."

"She is awful! She always orders Lizzy to punish me, but she never does."

Darcy's face hardened. "Yes, that sounds quite like Lady Catherine."

The warm mood of a minute before was gone, but Elizabeth felt some little hope that while he was here Darcy might do something to change Lady Catherine's behavior. But Elizabeth doubted it. The cry, Spare the rod, spoil the child, echoed again in Elizabeth's mind.

She shivered and turned to Darcy. "For how long shall you be here? What matter brought you to Rosings Park?"

Darcy frowned deeply. He shook himself. "I am deeply sorry, Miss Bennet, but I must attend other matters. It was… I am glad that I did see you again… I always wondered how you did. Emma, I do beg you to never let Lady Catherine… Be happy, and treat Miss Bennet well."

With a formal bow Darcy left.

Elizabeth pursed her lips. That was a strange end to a pleasant ten minutes. At least he was not going to act as though she were diseased in the way a few of her acquaintances had. But he did not know about Lydia, or even about her uncle. Perhaps later he would look at her in scorn.

He was so handsome, and while he clearly was unhappy to be visiting his aunt, it was clear from his features that his star was still in ascendance, while she was now a shell of who she had been. Perhaps that was what he had realized when he left. Something had reminded him that she now was a governess, and thus a creature deserving of nothing but pity.

Later that evening Elizabeth brought Emma to the kitchen for them to collect their dinner. Elizabeth's mind still revolved about Darcy.

Would she have another chance to see him before he left? It had always been easy before this to say that she did not regret any of her refusals. But Darcy had been so…kind.

Elizabeth shook herself as she entered the kitchen, carefully holding Emma's hand since she did not like to see the girl run about with the boiling pots and open fires in the stone room attached to the main house.

If she had married Mr. Darcy, she would never have been Emma's governess. Instead the girl would have a governess who worshipped her Ladyship the way Mr. Collins had.

The oppressive heat of the ovens met them when they entered the kitchen, only slightly helped by the warm breeze blowing through the open windows. But it was worth the smell. Elizabeth licked her lips hungrily as she thought of the taste of the rich beef soup simmering in a large pot.

The cook, Mrs. Shore, jovially smiled at them and put a tray on one of the counters for them, followed by a pair of bowls and plates. "Down for your meals?"

"Yes." Elizabeth grinned. "It has been the sole matter we have looked forward to all day. Has anything of interest happened today?"

"We are having a quite great to-do. The lady's nephew, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, has come unexpectedly. He is to be here for a month, and I must make sure the food is worthy of him. He is very wealthy, you know."

"I had heard."

"And very handsome! Perhaps you shall see him — if Lady Catherine calls you and Emma down after dinner."

Some nights Lady Catherine wished to observe the girl and lecture her about her behavior.

It was a sign of her ladyship's great generosity that she was willing to expend some effort to correct the deficiencies that came from Emma's nature, and the terrible influence Emma had received for her first years from her sinful mother. She also took the opportunity to question Elizabeth about how she had managed Emma, to which Elizabeth responded with a mixture of honesty and bald faced lies. The lies were always rehearsed with Emma to make sure their stories to the old lady agreed.

"I saw Mr. Darcy already. Emma and I spoke with him."

"You did! Is he not the handsomest gentleman you have ever seen? Or perhaps he has changed. It has been some four years since he visited last. In the Spring of '12"

Elizabeth blinked. Had he then not visited since their time? Since she had refused him? It was perhaps self-centered to think it had anything to do with her, yet Elizabeth could not help but think it suggested he had a continued sensibility towards her.

Emma exclaimed, "Mr. Darcy was such a nice man! And he liked Miss Lizzy very much." Emma was comfortable enough with Mrs. Shore to speak in front of her. Elizabeth also knew that the statement was a bid for the cook's attention so she would remember to give her a sweet treat.

"Oh-ho! He did, did he?" Mrs. Shore laughed and looked down at Emma's wide, sweet eyes which blinked up at her. "Such a nice girl! — A fine job you've made of her, she was wild the first two months she was here. A girl that young needs someone to pay her special attention."

Mrs. Shore opened up the jar with the biscuits and handed one to Emma and then took one herself which she stuffed into her mouth. "So Mr. Darcy liked you?"

Elizabeth shrugged. "I had known him before."

Mrs. Shore ladled out the soup for them into bowls and ordered her assistant to slow down how quickly she turned the spit with the goose. "Evenly, evenly! It will not cook properly if you turn it about like it is some water pump."

Emma had shoveled the biscuit into her mouth which now was far too full to speak. Elizabeth laughed and poked her, "If you wish to be a perfect gentlewoman one day, you must eat a little slower."

Emma nodded and swallowed part of her mouthful.

Mrs. Shore exclaimed, "I recall! The last time he visited was when you were in the country as well. You were a guest of that vicar with the very dull sermons — not that I would speak against the Lord, or your friends, and he was a pious man, I am sure—"

Elizabeth smiled. "The vicar with the very dull sermons. 'Tis as good a description of Mr. Collins as any I have ever heard. He always has been very…wholesome," Elizabeth added with a disarming smile. "But you can speak against him as much as you please. He was my father's heir and wasted no time in throwing us out upon my father's death — do you know, I could have been Mrs. Collins instead of poor Charlotte."

"My word!"

"Yes, though if you look at me now, you'd not think it, I have received eligible offers."

Mrs. Shore turned from examining the roast her attendant was turning to study Elizabeth. "Nay — you shall not get away with that. No fake humbleness. You look like a rose, and you know it. You are a fetching young creature still. I am the one whose beauty passed by some thirty years ago. A guest of her Ladyship, or some gentleman you meet at church, will give you a look, and you'll smile back at him, and then we'll need to find another lady to manage Emma — do you regret those refusals?"

Elizabeth looked at Emma who looked at her with something like worry. "I would never leave my little girl here. Never. I do not regret them at all — maybe one, but I hardly know."

"You may pretend not to care. But for a body to have their life changed so much. You ought have accepted that Mr. Collins, even though he was very dull. Your family could have stayed in their place. It would have been the proper thing to do."

"My mother never forgave me. I do not blame her for that though. I did act contrary to her interest."

"I would be shamed to end up a governess after refusing a gentleman like that. But not everyone chooses the same — it must have been a shameful moment, to meet Mr. Darcy again. He is so noble and grand. And you had known him as a fellow guest of the house and now you are barely better than a servant. "

"Mr. Darcy was all kindness. He was…different than I expected. I am used to…feeling shame, but…Mr. Darcy was all kindness."

Mrs. Shore looked at Elizabeth critically. "Do not become porridge minded over him. They say he'll marry a duke's daughter, or Miss de Bourgh."

Elizabeth laughed. "I have seen him in a room with Miss de Bourgh many times, and they never had a single word to speak to each other. That shall not happen."

A young woman of about seventeen pranced into the room and laid a kiss on Mrs. Shore's cheek. "Hello, auntie. Have you seen that very, very handsome gentleman who just arrived? He is almost as handsome as that other gentleman. Though he did not flirt with me at all. Miss Bennet! You look well tonight. You must see Mr. Darcy. He looks very handsome — if you see him you shall agree with me."

"Pamela, you will run into trouble. I tell you, that other man will be trouble. You need to think seriously on learning your duties and saving money, not — is that a new ribbon?"

The young maid laughed and bounced her hair about. "Is it not pretty? I keep looking my best because I hope that other gentleman will visit again. Goodbye, auntie, I only came by to grab this." She took a biscuit from the jar. Pamela then laughed again and bounced off to go upstairs.

Elizabeth smiled as the happy young woman left.

Mrs. Shore had a pensive frown.

"Other gentleman?" Elizabeth asked. "I was aware of no recent visitors — she should be cautious. My own sister was led into serious misfortune by youthful high spirits and a handsome man."

Mrs. Shore threw up her hands. "If I have told her that once, I have told it to her at least twenty times. And I have told her once. She'll not listen. She has money in her pocket, and she has gone porridge brained. The fun of a great house still robs her of the little sense she owns. Pamela is a good girl. I do not think she will… She is a good girl."

"She is — thank you again for indulging Emma with treats."

Elizabeth picked up the tray holding her and Emma's dinner to bring their food back to the nursery. Carrying food for the governess would be beneath a footman in the house of Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

As the hours went past, Elizabeth's slight hope of being called down so she might see Mr. Darcy again dissipated. However, if he actually was to stay for an entire month she would have many other opportunities. A half hour before the time when Elizabeth would put Emma to bed and then retire to her tiny room adjoining the nursery, there was a knock on the door.

Pamela entered, smiling and curtseying. She carried a tray with slices of cake and a glass of champagne. "Miss Bennet, Lady Catherine has ordered for us all to celebrate! There is such a grand announcement. Mr. Darcy — he is very handsome — he is to marry Miss de Bourgh."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Darcy glared from his window at the grove of trees visible across a small meadow.

Three days.

He had still not stumbled across any idea to protect his sister's reputation while saving him from the need to marry Anne. Lady Catherine was too determined. Even if he found Wickham and bribed the man to deny any stories, he could not silence Lady Catherine. She would go to London and make the largest scandal the _ton_ had seen in years.

It was midday on Sunday, and when he'd gone to church in the morning he'd at last seen Elizabeth again. She had sat in one of the pews in the back of the church. She had not been there yet when Lady Catherine had led her party to their pew. But she was there when he left the church.

She had a small, confused frown when their eyes caught as he left the church with Lady Catherine and his cousin.

Darcy had not sought Elizabeth out, though he always was aware where the nursery and Elizabeth were.

What was the point? What was the point of _anything_? He had to marry Anne.

From the corner of his eye Darcy caught movement. He saw Elizabeth, swinging a basket from her arm, walking towards that grove which had always been a favorite of hers while her pupil ran circles around Elizabeth and walked backwards.

The wind caught her blue summer dress and billowed the fabric around her legs. The sunlight shined upon her, creating a sort of halo around Elizabeth's brown hair. Darcy's stomach twisted.

The girl ran behind Elizabeth so that she turned back to face the house to smile at her. Darcy saw her smile, and it nearly made his heart stop. She nodded happily at the eagerly chattering little girl. Elizabeth ruffled her hair before the girl took off at a run into the woods, and with a laugh Elizabeth followed her, the basket swinging from her arms, and her lean athletic form easily striding after her.

Darcy knew he needed to go outside and join the healthy green world again. He hurriedly put his light summer coat on, and he stumbled as he rushed down the stairs. It was a half conscious thing, but he immediately headed in the direction he'd seen Elizabeth.

The park had wide fields and expansive vistas. The deer in the park flitted from tree to tree as they enjoyed the ample grass. The scent of growth pervaded the air, and insects buzzed merrily. Everywhere trees were blooming with leaves and flowers.

Darcy quickly reached the grove Elizabeth had walked into.

It was the same grove.

He remembered for a moment those days when he believed _she_ loved him but was unworthy of his high regard.

The trees formed a covered hallway over the path, and it was almost cool and comfortable. Darcy wiped the sweat from his forehead. He smiled at the memory of Elizabeth inclining her head towards him with her lovely mischievous smirk.

No one was in the grove.

Someone ran up behind him and in a child's voice asked, "Hello! Are you taking a walk on Sunday too?"

Darcy did not see the speaker until he looked down. Elizabeth's pupil had her hands on her knees and panted from her run. There was a laugh in her eyes.

"Far too beautiful a day to be locked up inside with my books." Elizabeth hurried up from behind with a wide smile.

"Good day! Good day! Miss Bennet, I am glad to see you! It is a fine day, is it not?" Darcy threw his hands wide to refer to the trees, the weather, and the sounds of nature.

"It is an exceptional day. Emma did not run into you again, did she?"

"I did not!"

"Are you sure?" Elizabeth poked the little girl. "You've made quite a habit of running through Mr. Darcy."

"No! Just that one time!"

"Are you sure? — Mr. Darcy, do tell me, did she run into you again?"

Darcy looked down at Emma, who looked back up at him pleadingly. He winked at her. "Alas this time it was I who ran into her."

Emma giggled.

"That was quite clumsy of you." Elizabeth's wide smile was untroubled.

"He did not run into me either!"

Elizabeth exclaimed, "No! But he must have! He said he did. Mr. Darcy — did you just tell an untruth? Emma, you should not follow _his_ example."

"You shall teach her not to believe a word I say — I hope…I hope you do not distrust every word from me _now_."

"Trust? I trust what you say…"

"Miss Williams said you were taking a walk—"

"For Emma it is more of a run."

"Might I join you?"

"Me or Emma?" Elizabeth rubbed the girl's shoulder. "I doubt you can keep up with _her_. She is faster than _anyone_ I've ever met before."

Emma beamed at Elizabeth's silly praise. "Mr. Darcy, I will just walk so you can keep up with me. I'll show you all of the types of trees. This is an aspen, and that is an oak, and that one way over there is a…a…"

"A willow, honey."

"Yes, it is a willow."

"That is very good." Darcy clapped enthusiastically.

"Have you been to the stream? I can skip rocks. I've managed to make a rock jump, four, five times. More." Emma held up six fingers between her two hands. "Lizzy says that is impressive because it is such a small stream."

They walked to the stream, with the thick reeds grown up around it, and lilies, and brilliant water flowers. It ran merrily along, the surface of the water dappled by the sunlight coming through the overarching leaves. Fish were visible through the clear water, and one leaped out of the river on the opposite side from them, and the sun gleamed off its silvery skin. They found a large area though where the water was deeper and it presented a flat appearance.

Emma ran down to search out rocks to throw along the edge of the stream. With a serious frown she picked up rocks and turned them about to study their features, before tossing most back to the ground.

Darcy looked at Elizabeth.

She smiled at him. "Emma decided she likes you, and she can be quite determined with such adults. She truly is the sweetest creature, but if you do not wish to listen to her babble at length—"

"I am happy to learn the names of the trees. And from such a fine teacher."

Elizabeth laughed. "Well if you must tell Emma that, you should with that very tone of voice."

"I am thankful you allow me to accompany you. If you do not _wish_ my presence though—"

"What are you speaking of?"

"I see you still like to frequent that grove, but I once thought you went there so often because we met there."

Elizabeth laughed unabashedly. Her white teeth showed in her brilliant smile. "I likely enjoyed your company then. I do not know — one should never believe _everything_ a woman says. I thought often of you afterwards — during those dark days, especially. Perhaps, I… Oh it does not matter! That was then! It is all so long ago — wait! I can read your hidden meaning. You came to the grove to seek my company again."

Darcy flushed.

She beamed at him. "That was extremely kind of you!"

Emma called them down to join her next to the river. She had a small pile of smooth flat stones, perfect for skipping. Darcy squatted next to Emma and said with an air of dignity, "I expect to be deeply impressed by such a fine thrower as you claim to be." He winked at her.

Darcy knew Elizabeth watched him, and he knew she found his friendliness to Emma attractive.

"I am a very fine thrower. My Mama taught me before she went to heaven, and then Lizzy taught me another trick."

Darcy looked at Elizabeth. "Aha! You can skip rocks? Shall the list of your accomplishments never cease?"

"So a woman must skip rocks for you to consider her _truly_ accomplished?"

"And she must read extensively." Darcy grinned and said to Emma, "With such a fine teacher I expect great things from you!"

Emma grinned at the attention. She studied the pile for many seconds before she grabbed a fine round grey stone speckled with black. With an intense frown she pulled her arm back and hurled it forward. The stone bounced along the stream's surface.

Darcy clapped enthusiastically. "Not bad at all! Not bad — I'd wager you can do better though!"

"I can! I can! " She pulled another stone from the pile and threw it more quickly. This one did not skip as many times. But her third stone bounced far longer, and Emma jumped up and down with glee.

Elizabeth embraced her, saying, "Fine job. Very fine!"

Emma exclaimed, "Did you see that, Mr. Darcy! Did you see that!"

"I dare say I'd have trouble replicating it."

Elizabeth laughed. "All gentlemen in my experience are proud of how talented they are at skipping rocks."

"Not I, 'twas Colonel Fitzwilliam and…our other companion who had a genius for the sport."

"So there _is_ something you cannot do well."

"I can teach you!" Emma exclaimed enthusiastically.

Darcy grinned at Elizabeth and squatted down next to Emma again. "I know a _little_ of the art. But perhaps I can learn from you."

"Well you must find the very best stones first, and then hold them like so."

Darcy nodded attentively, though he saw from the edge of his eyes the way Elizabeth's face had curled into such a pretty smile that it jolted his stomach again. Her smiles always had affected him so. Following Emma's lead he picked up the stone, and she manipulated how he held it several times before proclaiming that Mr Darcy had it just right. Then he pulled back his wrist, let Emma correct his technique once more and then let the rock skip.

It was a decent throw, and Elizabeth clapped.

Emma was a harsher critic. "I did better than that! You must practice, Mr. Darcy. Miss Lizzy always says hard work is required for proficiency at any important matter."

"So you consider skipping stones an important matter?" Darcy queried the girl in his most serious voice.

She giggled. "It's just fun. And I'm the best!" She then proved that statement by hurling several more stones which skipped delightfully.

Darcy took his turn, and then Elizabeth hers. Elizabeth made the two best throws of their little group before they ran out of stones. Emma went off to search out more stones, though Darcy saw her after a moment forget the occupation to study something interesting which caught her attention along the riverbank. She then ran back, clutching a small object, "Look! It's a beetle!"

Elizabeth laughed, though she drew back a little from the insect. "An excellent find."

Emma nodded. "May I explore about?"

"Be careful — no climbing trees! I would be in great trouble if you fell out and broke your arm."

"I'm more agile than you! _I_ never fall."

Elizabeth laughed and ruffled her hair.

Darcy looked at her in curiosity.

Elizabeth said, "I regaled Emma with the tales of _my_ misadventures during childhood. She seems to think she shall not fall from trees in the way I did. Children must learn for themselves — but, Emma, remember Lady Catherine."

 _That_ name sobered the girl. She nodded seriously before running off into the thicket around the pond.

Elizabeth looked at Darcy, her dark eyes smiling. She spoke in a soft voice, "You have been exceptionally kind." She sat down on a large rock after rearranging her dress to keep from crumpling in folds under her.

Darcy sat on another rock near her, so that their knees almost touched. "I have been nothing of the sort. Emma is completely adorable. There is no kindness in enjoying her company."

"She still is a child, though she is the sweetest child in the world — I speak as a woman with several nieces and a profusion of younger cousins. Emma is my favorite."

"It is not just Emma who drew me here. I also enjoy your company."

Elizabeth's cheeks crimsoned. A part of Darcy was confused by his behavior with Elizabeth. He was an engaged man. While he _felt_ no attachment to Anne, he could not, as a matter of honor, flirt with a different gentlewoman. He had never really understood how to flirt, but he thought he might be flirting with Elizabeth.

It felt special to be near her.

Elizabeth looked at him from the side, her deep brown eyes only meeting his for a moment. "I always wondered what you thought of me. If perhaps you resented me. By now you must have heard the tale of our disgrace, and about Lydia, and…I am surprised you sought my company."

Darcy intently looked at Elizabeth. Lady Catherine had happily told everything that was known about Elizabeth's youngest sister when he'd mentioned meeting her during their first dinner. It was a story which proved that he'd been objectively correct that her sisters might disgrace their connections.

Yet he'd been entirely and completely wrong to fear it.

Elizabeth looked down and said in a high-pitched voice. " _Have_ you heard the story — I must tell you if you have not, so you—"

Darcy placed his hand on her knee. She fell quiet and looked at him. He studied her eyes. "You undervalue yourself. I know the story, but I would be a fool if I did not wish to seek you out."

Their eyes held. Her brown eyes were like a light colored chocolate, alight with life. Elizabeth self-consciously looked down and away. "I gave _you_ ample reason to avoid me."

Darcy removed his hand from her knee when he realized it was there. He wasn't flirting with her. There was more meaning to his behavior than _flirting_ implied. He asked in a slightly confused voice, "Why would I ever wish to avoid you?"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "I rejected you quite harshly. It shames me to remember the phrases I spoke to you. I believe I said you were the last man in the world I would marry — which was quite melodramatic. And untrue, even at the time I would have preferred you to the _other_ eligible offer I received."

She glanced at him from the side again, her eyes peeking through her eyelashes.

"You were harsh. But I deserved harshness. My behavior towards you — the recollection still fills me with shame. I cannot resent you. What you said to me then was the first time I learned to judge myself harshly, and it was a lesson of great value. I always swore that should fate let me meet you again, I would strive to prove I had listened to your admonitions and improved in my behavior."

"Oh." Elizabeth frowned at the ground. She then bit her lip and shook her head. With a laugh she said, "We are quite a pair. I had no notion _that_ was how you would react to my refusal. I dare say it likely _did_ have a salutary effect."

"A most salutary effect." Darcy grinned at her.

Elizabeth grinned back. And his stomach flipped. She said, "I am glad you sought me out again."

The way their eyes met made Darcy incoherent as he looked at her. He could not think of the words he meant to say. Darcy looked away with a helpless smile. "I should have sought you out earlier. We have been in the same house for four days, and this is the second time we spoke."

"You have no duty to talk to me — I am glad for your…friendship. But I would never have dreamed of expecting you to seek me out."

"You had no reason to expect much of me. But it would have been right for me to seek you out quicker."

While rubbing her knee Elizabeth said, "I had thought… I knew you could have. Perhaps I rather hoped to see you." She darted her eyes up to his face and then looked down again. "You were friendly. I have been — I am not complaining. I am fortunate and glad for my position and my care of Emma. But I have been lonely."

"Lonely?"

"You must know what it is like to be a governess. No gentlewoman wishes to spend much time with one. At least Lady Catherine discourages my socializing. A governess must always be aware of her subservient position."

"I will seek you out often then."

"I wondered if, once you'd heard more of my story, that you determined to have no further dealings with me. Or you had simply not thought about me. Which in truth was a far more painful thought than your righteous determination to avoid a woman with such a scandalous sister."

"Nothing is worse than indifference." Darcy laughed. "That is not true — there is a person who holds me in great regard when I would much prefer indifference."

"You are confusing matters. You are indifferent to _her_ — or him, since you did not specify the sex. It makes no difference how a person who you do not care for thinks about you. It is only once you have some affection for them that the issue matters. So why did I not see you?" As Elizabeth finished her tone sharpened. Darcy wanted to imagine she sounded jealous. "You might have given me an opportunity to congratulate you on your upcoming nuptials."

Darcy looked away from Elizabeth. "It is a shameful enough matter. I was too occupied pitying myself to attend to anyone else."

Elizabeth looked at him with those shining dark eyes.

Darcy wanted to explain it all to her. He saw on the ground next to them a stone that Emma had discarded earlier for not being good enough to throw. Darcy picked it up. He felt the smooth surface of the rock, worn away by centuries of water. Darcy carefully sighted along the stream and flicked his wrist just so. The rock bounced along leaving a long row splashes.

"I imagine you have guessed from my manner and words that I do not wish to marry Miss de Bourgh — this does not speak against her. She is unexceptional. But I have no passion, no…ardent feeling towards her."

Elizabeth nodded. Her eyes were deep and serious. He wondered what she was thinking or remembering. She briefly touched his arm.

Darcy turned back to the river and threw another stone. This time the angle was off, and instead of skipping it just hit the surface and made a large splash.

"Must you marry her?" Elizabeth's voice was soft.

"I must."

"What control has Lady Catherine found over you? I am…unhappy for you. I wish you to be happy. I always did — no, not always — but I have for many years."

"She knows of Georgiana's indiscretion, and she has sworn to tell the entire world. Georgiana has just become engaged to a man she loves dearly. I do not believe I am likely to find that happiness in any case. And I cannot sacrifice my sister's wellbeing for my own. I am her guardian. It is _my_ duty."

"Yes. But…to marry a person you do not care for. That has always seemed to me…"

"It is my duty. I have no choice."

Elizabeth looked at him for a long time. Her eyes glistened. "I think I understand you. _You_ always ensure your duty is done. But that horrid, terrible woman."

"Aye."

The two sat there quietly. Emma ran back to them, her dress a little muddied. "I saw that throw, Mr. Darcy! Such a fine throw. I did teach you well."

"That you did."

"Here, Lizzy!" The girl held out a small bird's egg, which Elizabeth took carefully.

"It is very pretty. Where did you find it?"

Emma pointed to a tree with a low branch. "I didn't climb…much."

Elizabeth laughed. "You are a good girl. But be more careful."

"Yes. Yes, I will be careful," Emma replied in an exasperated voice, before storing the bird's egg on a little piece of fabric in the basket Elizabeth had brought with her and running off again.

Darcy smiled ruefully and shook his head. He had determined to be cheerful, and he was next to a beautiful woman. It was as fine an afternoon as he had ever seen. The world was green, and he was wealthy and still young. "Listen to my complaints — I have no cause to complain. It is not such a bad world. I wish to be more like you — your disappointments have been greater—"

"Oh, not at all!"

"You have lost your father, your position, you are apart from your family. I imagine you have lost many false friends. Yet you smile and shower your love upon Emma."

Elizabeth laughed, and she knocked her knee against his. "You are being absurd. I proved quite amply that I would rather be poor than married to a man I disliked. So do not tell me _that_. I chose my fate, and for myself I have never repined."

"No!" Darcy laughed. "Do not say _that_. No man wishes to hear that he is such a poor prospect that a woman would rather be a governess under the employ of _Lady Catherine_ than married to him."

"I did not say _that_!" Elizabeth shook her head and grinned. "You are begging for a compliment, and I shall not give it. Lady Catherine is not so bad — one just must _be more subservient_."

"You caught the tone of her voice perfectly."

"I _did_. I can scare Emma easily with my imitations of Lady Catherine. I am careful though never to do it where she might stumble across us. But great noble ladies do not walk in the woods, or splash about streams."

"Now there is a matter that has been eating at me for the past half hour. There was an eligible offer you received from a man who you disliked _even_ more than me? Who was the unfortunate man?"

"You cannot call him unfortunate, for he was accepted by his wife before the day of my rejection was finished."

"The deuce! He offered for a second woman in one day?"

Elizabeth giggled. "You look like you bit a sour lemon. Tell me truly, had you been refused by some other woman that day already?"

"Good God! No!"

She giggled again. "Ah. You had not." Elizabeth smiled at him. "Your speech to me, whatever its flaws, it showed far more _personal_ regard for me."

"A proposal that did _not_ show personal regard? The deuce!"

At the cue of his ejaculated phrase Elizabeth giggled again, as he'd hoped.

"My cousin considered the proposal more as a means of showing regard for the opinion of your esteemed aunt than the woman whose hand he sought."

"Mr. Collins!"

Elizabeth laughed at him.

Darcy added in a disgusted voice, "I had some idea that he wished to claim you from his behavior the night of that ball. But he would bore you to murder within a month."

"I considered that. It was far easier to listen to my mother's complaints. It still is."

Elizabeth looked at the ground with a quiet frown.

Darcy rubbed at his face. If she had married Mr. Collins her family would have kept the house. It would not have been as great as marrying him, but Mr. Collins still was a good match.

"Will you tell me about how…matters have gone for you? I wish to hear your story…"

"You do?" Elizabeth's dark eyes were sad and serious. He held her eyes. She looked away with red cheeks.

Darcy said awkwardly, "You need not. Not if you do not wish…if it is uncomfortable."

"I wish to tell you. You… I trust you to be kind. Not everyone has been."

She met his eyes again. "Our misfortunes began in the summer of year twelve. Actually only a few days after I visited Pemberley—"

"You visited Pemberley! In 1812?"

"The loveliest estate in England, and your housekeeper Mrs. Reynolds was a very distinguished and sweet woman, who gave you a flaming character. She gave us to understand you have _never_ spoken a cross word since you were four."

"Now I _know_ you have been to Pemberley — she brags that way to everyone."

"Aha! So you _did_ order her to say that."

Darcy shook his head. "I see you have not modified your opinion of my _vanity_ , whatever else you may have changed."

"Vanity — I believed you possessed none. Only pride. For pride, when it is under good regulation shall never be a vice." Elizabeth laughed. "That is one of a half dozen things you said which I have never forgotten."

"I said _that_! Good god! What an arrogant speech."

Elizabeth laughed, her smile displaying her teeth and dimpled cheeks.

Darcy laughed with her, enjoying being teased. "But Pemberley, when did you visit it?"

"Ah, let me think. It was the beginning of August. It was on the seventh that I received from Jane the news of Lydia's elopement, and we had gone to Pemberley three days prior."

"Really?" Darcy tried to remember that year. Where had he been?

Elizabeth added, "Mrs. Reynolds told us you were to arrive the next day with a party of friends. I had been worried that I might meet you there, and that you would think I was presumptuous, or…taunting you…or something."

"The next day. I remember that year. I had planned to ride ahead and reach Pemberley a day before my party, but Bingley convinced me it was too hot." Darcy shook his head. "Maybe if I'd gone ahead, we'd have met again. I would have been happy to see you."

"Would you have already wished to prove how well you had taken my lessons and improved yourself?"

"I certainly would have."

The two smiled at each other. If only he had met her then, when he was free to marry as he wished. Perhaps… She was so open with him now, and so friendly. Perhaps he could have won her heart then. Darcy looked away. "Your story?"

Elizabeth frowned at the burbling stream. "Lydia had gone to Brighton with her _dear friend_ Harriet, that is Colonel Forster's new wife. Mr. Wickham was obliged to leave the regiment on account of debts; she went with him with the idea that they would go to Scotland to be married. My father went to search for them in London, caught a fever while going from house to house, and died promptly. Mr. Collins had us thrown out immediately and offered no support to the widow of his cousin. He ordered Charlotte never to speak to any of us. He believed my father's death was the Lord's punishment upon a wicked family — that was a notion he received from Lady Catherine. 'Tis more than passing strange that she eventually would hire me, though I do understand her reasons. We went to live with my uncle in London. Though Kitty stayed in Meryton with my other uncle, Mr. Phillips."

Darcy touched her shoulder in an instinctive attempt to comfort her. "I only knew Mr. Bennet had passed on."

She leaned into his hand, and then straightened. "We then suffered a further misfortune: My uncle embarked upon an ambitious endeavor, and for a time it proceeded well, but last year in the crash he lost all of his money and more. A friend arranged for him to get a modest position in another business as a clerk, but he barely has enough money to feed all of his dependents." Elizabeth turned more fully away from him. "You see that you are fortunate you have no connection to us. I have no cause to complain, however. I have this position, and except for Papa we are all healthy."

Darcy looked at her for a long time. She did not turn back to meet his gaze. He would happily have an endless horde of indigent relatives if he also had Elizabeth. He knew in this moment he still wished to marry her. But Lady Catherine had made it impossible. There would be no second chance to win Elizabeth's heart and hand.

They fell silent. The stream bubbled past. A butterfly flapped around. The warm fragrant breeze fluttered over them. The trees and grasses and bushes were rich, green and full of growth. Elizabeth's cheeks were rosy, her curves were modestly displayed by the lines of her dress. "Your other family, do they do well? Miss Jane…"

"Jane is happy; her husband is a vicar whose mind is much like hers. He is too poor to help the rest of us much, but she loves him very, very dearly and has one child already."

"I cannot avoid a deep sense of guilt when I think how the fate of your family is my doing."

" _Your_ doing!"

"I ought to have exposed Wickham for what he was. Had I not been mistaken in my advice to Mr. Bingley, he would have married your sister, and—"

" _That_ is not a matter for you to blame yourself over. It was an easy thing for a girl of twenty to blame you solely. A girl who—" Elizabeth laughed. "I rather was obsessed by you. I see now that had Bingley been a man worthy of Jane, he would have trusted his own knowledge of her feelings." Elizabeth held up her hand to stop Darcy who began to speak to defend his friend. "Perhaps that is not fair, but it does not indicate a great depth of feeling. _You_ would not have behaved in such a manner. But Jane is happy. Is Mr. Bingley happy?"

"I fear he is not. He married a wealthy woman who has made him unhappy. She did love him — and very openly, unlike your sister. But they fell apart and now live separately for most of the year. You say Jane is happy. That removes some of my guilt for my unwarranted and thoughtless interference, but I did not interfere the next time in Bingley's affairs, and then it did go poorly. I believe _he_ would be far happier today with your sister."

"You cannot blame yourself for responding to the world as you saw it."

"I can blame myself for seeing the world wrongly, and I can blame myself for my unwarranted interference in their affairs. Your other sisters? Are they well — I do hope they are well."

"Lydia is…" Elizabeth blushed. "You were quite right about _her_. As far as I know she is still in good health. Kitty married a captain in the marines, and they are well, though he is on half pay due to the end of the conflict. Mary took a position, like me, as a governess. It is a profession which suits her and for which she was well prepared. Quite unlike my state. "

Darcy wanted to ask about Lydia. He heard she had Wickham's child from Lady Catherine, and then became the mistress of another man. Elizabeth did not seem inclined to say more, and it was far too delicate of a matter to ask about.

Elizabeth nudged him with her elbow. "Now you look abstracted — you must be wondering how I came to have this position, even though I confessedly lack all accomplishments, and have an illegitimate niece."

"It does surprise me. I mean no criticism of you, simply that she would not in a normal case hire a woman with such a background At least I do not believe Lady Catherine would —"

"You must have heard that Emma is illegitimate. I love her just the same."

"I think no less of her for it."

"Lady Catherine believes that because I have a niece who is outside of good society in the same way, I might prove to be a better tutor and companion for her ward." Elizabeth made herself laugh. "Besides, I do not cost very much."

As if drawn by her name being spoken, Emma scrambled out of a nearby thicket and bounced up to sit next to Elizabeth. "What are you two talking about?"

"How Miss Bennet became your governess, and her qualifications for the position."

"Miss Lizzy is the best governess!" Emma exclaimed. "We practice piano, and take walks, and memorize the kings of England, and I have to read books. She is a very good teacher."

"And you are very good pupil." Elizabeth rubbed Emma's hair. "My charge is the sweetest creature in the world, if full of mischief."

Emma stuck her tongue out in reply.

Elizabeth carefully looked Emma over. "However your dress _is_ a little torn in the hem." She shook her head and smiled. "Fortunately I know your habits. From the sun it is past time to return and give you dinner, and I have a clean dress for you to change into in the basket. You see, I knew you would _not_ be careful."

Emma giggled.

Darcy took his watch out and noticed the hour. He and Elizabeth had talked for a long time, yet it seemed short.

The three of them pleasantly walked over the grasses and past the buzzing insects. Emma narrated equally to them both each tree she had climbed up, every insect she had chased, and the time a wasp had nearly stung her, all told in her happy child's voice. When they reached the end of the grove, from which the path ran across the sunny meadow to the mansion, they parted.


	6. Chapter 6

Elizabeth sat on the sill of the open window in the nursery and shook her head at Emma. "No, you do not say it that way. You must use _devoir_ in the conditional tense, _Nous devrions manger._ "

Emma blinked up at Elizabeth, clearly lost.

" _Nous devrions_ — we should — then _manger_ , to eat. _Nous devrions manger_. We should eat."

"Yes, I am very hungry. We _should_ eat."

Elizabeth laughed at Emma's earnest, yet mischievous expression. "Too early."

"Pleaaaase."

Elizabeth laughed. She was a bit hungry too. Perhaps she had used that example because she wished to take a break and go to the kitchen. "Ask me in French."

" _Pouvons-nous manger_?"

Elizabeth giggled at Emma's hopeful expression. "Very good."

"So can we eat?"

"In another ten minutes. You need to recite the tenses of _devoir_ once more. Begin with what we have been practicing."

Emma pouted. " _Je devrais, vous devriez_ —"

"You need to pronounce the 'r' in the back of the throat. It sounds quite bizarre, and not at all like a proper English 'r'. Do try again."

" _Devriez_."

"Very good."

"Can we now eat?"

Elizabeth laughed. "Just recite them."

Eventually Emma finished, with pronunciation that sounded roughly right to Elizabeth's faulty ear. Elizabeth knew her deficiencies, and while she understood the language, she mispronounced many things herself, and had no notion how to get them to sound _exactly_ right.

Elizabeth asked as they left the room, "Would you like to go outside and continue reading _Udolpho_ after we eat?"

"Yes! Yes! Oh yes! It is so _fun_!"

Elizabeth took the book from its place in her room — it would not do to have novels in the nursery where Lady Catherine might find them — and put it in a small basket.

Emma danced down the stairs, making the wood creak with her little feet while Elizabeth followed at a more sedate pace.

The kitchen was uncomfortably hot now, though the room would be a warm refuge in the winter. The rich smells of soup and cooking meat combined with the scent of smoke from the crackling wood in the fireplace.

Pamela leaned against the counter, with her back foot drawn up against her leg, showing off the line of her stockings as she listened with a bored expression to Mrs. Shore speak.

"That brother of yours had best be more careful, what with Mr. Darcy around."

At hearing the end of this Elizabeth said mildly, "Might Emma and I have some food — perhaps something suitable for a picnic?" She burned with curiosity to know just what Pamela's brother was doing, but thought it best not to ask.

Mrs. Shore looked at her carefully, perhaps wondering what she had overheard. "Of course."

Emma said chirpily, "Miss Lizzy is teaching me French. _Vous devriez me…_ ummmm… _donnez-moi un patisserie._ It means you should give me something sweet. Oh! _S'il vous plait_. That means please."

The cook laughed. "Aren't you the sweetest creature."

Elizabeth poked Emma. "You said it wrong. _Vous devriez me donner_."

"I could not tell the difference," Mrs. Shore stated. "So it was an excellent effort." She pulled several tarts out of the oven. "Fresh and warm. I kept them that way just for you, sweetie. And there is one for you, Miss Bennet."

Elizabeth nodded her thanks. "Well, shall we go?"

Emma nodded eagerly. Elizabeth glanced back at Pamela and Mrs. Shore again as she left. What had they had been talking about?

They walked out into the kitchen garden, and were greeted by the aromatic scents of cooking herbs and a breeze that was welcome after the heat from the kitchen's ovens. The plants, carefully tended by Mrs. Shore, filled the whole area with green leaves and good scents.

The basket in her hand was heavy from the bread, the generous cut of chicken and a handful of strawberries that Mrs. Shore had provided for their luncheon. The bread was fresh from the oven and smelled delicious.

Pamela followed Elizabeth into the garden with a pensive frown. Elizabeth smiled at her encouragingly.

The maid looked down. "Miss Bennet, I hear you are a friend of Mr. Darcy's."

Elizabeth blushed at the question. She remembered that perfect day they had enjoyed Sunday, and the way he visited the nursery for twenty minutes yesterday morning to talk with her and Emma. "I hope that I am."

"Do you know how he would…that is, if he found someone who was…"

This seemed possibly serious. Elizabeth handed Emma the basket. "Go run over to our rock and set up the blanket and basket for us to eat."

Emma looked between the two of them. Elizabeth could tell that Emma _knew_ they were going to talk about something that might be interesting. Especially since it involved Mr. Darcy. Emma was developing a case of hero worship for him.

Elizabeth made a shooing motion with her hands. "I am depending upon you."

Emma sighed and said in a long suffering voice. "Yes, Miss Lizzy."

Elizabeth smiled and shook her head as the girl ran off, and she carefully listened to make sure her footsteps went far enough away before she turned back to Pamela. "What exactly should your brother stop doing now that Mr. Darcy is here?"

"He has…that is…"

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows.

Pamela exclaimed, "What do you think!"

"A great many different things. About which matter?" Elizabeth laughed. "I promise I shall not tell anyone anything you say to me unless your brother is committing a serious crime, in which case _you_ should tell someone in authority."

"No! Betray family. Never."

"Family can betray you — but if your brother is… I merely suggest this for its absurdity, but if he is murdering travelers, you should—"

"No! Never! He is the sweetest brother in the world."

"So he is _not_ murdering people passing along the highway on moonless nights?" Elizabeth grinned at the girl and touched her arm. "Then what is he doing that is so serious?"

"It _isn't_ serious."

"I am glad to hear. And in that case I swear I will not tell anyone about the matter."

"But _you_ might think it is serious. Sometimes people get treated so horribly for just a little bit of fun, or some trifle. Like how in London they hang little boys for stealing apples, all of the time."

Elizabeth shook her head. "They do not. An item must be above five shillings in value before a theft can be a capital crime."

"I heard they hang little boys in London for stealing apples! My aunt told me they do. They do in London. Everything is so violent and frightening there."

"I lived in London for three years. It is not near so dangerous as _that_. And the law upon theft is everywhere in England."

"Oh. But they don't hang little boys _here_ often." Pamela nibbled her lip. "But even if someone stole that much… Surely you do not think there is anything right about that? Killing a little boy for that amount."

"I don't."

"You wouldn't tell anyone if a boy was stealing. Would you?"

"Your brother is no little child. Do you mean to tell me your brother has been frequently engaged in theft?"

"No! Of course not, he is no thief! Theft is wrong." Pamela stamped her foot. "They also execute poachers. Everyone knows that is terrible and poaching is just a way of making ends meet. Except some of the gentry."

"Not all gentry approve of the harshness which poachers are treated with. My papa always had poachers on our lands fined a little and released without charges. It meant the woods were less full than they could have been, but it worked itself out. He was no great hunter. It annoyed my mother and the neighbors to no end."

Pamela bit her lip and then shrugged. She looked side to side and lowered her voice. "I should not tell you…but you do not care. My brother sometimes poaches — only when he needs to! He has several children. And he always gives half the meat away. Auntie Shore sometimes helps to dress and cook it."

Elizabeth smiled. "I hope he is careful."

"Oh, yes! He is." Pamela nodded eagerly. "But auntie is being ridiculous. She thinks that with Mr. Darcy riding about everywhere he ought to stop. She thinks Mr. Darcy will find him out, and then have him executed."

"I do not think…" Elizabeth pursed her lips. "I doubt Mr. Darcy would help to protect his Aunt's lands by having someone punished. But does he really _need_ to? Your aunt has an excellent position. A skilled cook can command excellent wages—"

"She has her own children!"

"You also have good wages. And I thought your father had a fine leasehold. I do not think your brother needs to stave off _starvation_."

Pamela giggled. "Perhaps not. He enjoys poaching, and more meat is always good. You don't think Mr. Darcy would have him executed?"

"I do not know. Even if he would not, your brother should stop, for his own sake and that of his children. Also I would be careful about who I tell such stories to."

"You wouldn't tell anyone. You aren't like Lady Catherine — she is a fine lady, but she is sticky, she wants everything done _right_ —"

"Pamela, don't say _that_ about Lady Catherine to everyone either." Elizabeth laughed. "I _am_ glad you like me enough to ask me."

"Of course I do! You aren't stuck up at all! But you are always elegant and ladylike."

"You still think I am a lady?"

"You certainly ain't a servant like me and Auntie. Not that I mind. We all have our place."

Elizabeth shook her head. "I would like you to consider me something of a friend."

"I do. You don't think I would tell _anyone_ about how my brother sometimes steals Lady Catherine's game."

"You shouldn't speak of it at all." Elizabeth placed her hand on Pamela's shoulder and almost whispered, "What if someone overhears?"

The young woman paled. Then she laughed. "Don't scare me so!"

Elizabeth smiled and shook her head. "I am not seeking to scare you."

The girl grinned and hurried away towards the servant's back entrance to the house to go back to her duties. With a warm smile Elizabeth turned to go after Emma.

She then jumped to see Mr. Darcy standing inside the kitchen door, leaning against it with his broad muscled shoulders filling the space. He held a basket with some chicken and bread and a bottle of wine with two crystal glasses in his left hand.

"My!" Elizabeth clapped her hand to her mouth and laughed, her heart still racing. "You startled me."

He smirked masterfully. "What if someone overhears? Just what were you conspiring about with that maid?"

"You heard that?"

"It is what brought me to stop. Your voice has a distinctive effect on me."

Elizabeth blushed at the way he held her eyes.

"Do tell me," his voice felt seductive, "what are you hiding with the maid? You _can_ tell me."

Elizabeth shook her head. "I will not. It is _her_ secret."

"But, I am curious." Darcy grinned at her.

"You only ask because I shall not tell you, and you wish to tease me."

"Perhaps that _is_ it."

"I am sure it is."

"I would _never_ contradict you — certainly not in your understanding of my character."

Elizabeth laughed at his smirk.

He touched her shoulder and pointed towards the upstairs window to the nursery. "I was looking for you and your pupil, to see if we might share a luncheon. But alas, neither of you were there."

Elizabeth's heart glowed a little at how Darcy declared that he wanted to spend time with them. "We had just gone out to have such a meal."

"So I surmised. And Mrs. Shore confirmed it when I asked." Darcy lifted the basket. "She gave me provender to follow you with, but I feared I might have difficulty finding your hiding location, until I ran across you warning against being _overheard_."

"The conversation, in fact, touched upon you."

"Not only conspiring with a maid, but against me!" Darcy grinned again. "What dark devilry do you have planned?"

Elizabeth smirked at Darcy. "I shall not warn you of our plot…unless…"

"How could I convince you to spare me? I have many good features."

Elizabeth frowned. Was there some way to safely feel out whether Darcy was likely to be a threat to Pamela's poaching brother? "How…strongly do you feel about the laws of England?"

"Very." Darcy blinked in confusion and wrinkled his brow.

Elizabeth pursed her lips. That was too vague of a question to be useful.

"Oh!" Darcy's face cleared. "This about your conspiracy?" Darcy laughed. "May I guess? One of that young maid's paramours or relatives is involved in depredations against the precious animals of Lady Catherine's estate?"

Elizabeth's mouth fell open. "How did you guess — I am saying nothing."

"Poaching is the most common crime in most countryside districts. I often need to deal with it. It is a difficult matter to avoid the extreme harshness of the law without being so indulgent that the rights of the master over his land are not defended. I _can_ promise I shall not help Lady Catherine's gamesmen to protect her fields, even if I encounter the poacher by chance in the deed."

"I believe there are _some_ who would be glad to hear that."

"You have liberty from me to convey _that_ to your maid."

Elizabeth looked to the side and blushed. Even though he had already _said_ he was seeking them out for lunch, directly asking him was hard for Elizabeth. "Emma already prepared our feeding lair. Would you like to come with me to eat with us?"

Darcy smiled at her, without speaking for a moment.

Elizabeth nervously babbled, "She is decidedly hungry, and the poor girl is too well disciplined to eat without me. I do fear that she might be reading ahead though."

Darcy took her arm, and they walked towards the grove they'd met in the previous day. "Reading ahead?"

"We are reading _Udolpho_."

"Anne Radcliffe! The book that gives thrills and shudders to every female brain." Darcy winked at her.

"I will have you know, I read material besides novels."

"And I read material besides dry Latin — I liked _Udolpho_."

Elizabeth blushed. "Do not tell Lady Catherine that we are reading Radcliffe. I do not think she would approve. Shuddering thrills are not dignified."

The feel of his thin glove touching where her arm was bare below the elbow gave Elizabeth a different type of shuddering thrill. She smiled widely when he glanced at her and exclaimed, "Emma shall be delighted for the company."

"I am the one who is delighted to share with such good company."

Elizabeth bit her lip. There was some happiness growing in her at spending time near Darcy. She knew she should not trust or approve of this feeling. He was to be married. Any flirtation between them could simply be a matter of play. He had no choice, and she had no choice.

They reached the clump of rocks Emma had perched herself on. The food basket sat next to her, and a little cloth for them to put the bread on was spread out next to her. A few ants were exploring the cloth unperturbed by Emma. She had her nose deep in the book.

When they came near Emma looked up. Then she jumped to her feet. "Mr. Darcy!"

"I do solemnly believe I am."

The little girl ran over and gave both of them a tight squeeze.

Elizabeth said, "Are you growing hungry? I would have hurried, but Mr. Darcy wanted to eat with us, so we needed to get food for him. Else he would have needed to eat yours."

Emma curtsied to Darcy. "Thank you for coming."

"I am delighted. But we must eat."

They sat around the two baskets and Darcy poured wine for both him and Elizabeth. They chewed happily on the chicken and the little bits of pastry and fruits that Mrs. Shore had packed for them.

There was not much conversation as they ate, as all three were hungry.

When he finished, Darcy went to the stream and washed his fingers off. He then carefully wiped them off on the cloth that had been provided with his basket. Darcy said to Emma, "Might I have the book. You wished to listen to Lizzy, but I have been told I have an excellent speaking voice." He squatted to look the little girl in the eye. "Can I please try?"

"Well. Maybe." Emma grinned and handed him the book.

Darcy glanced at Elizabeth and flashed her a victorious smile, as though he had just beaten her. Emma saw this and giggled.

"Where should I start? What was the last part you read?"

Emma exclaimed, "You must begin from the beginning! It is all so exciting. You must not learn what happens out of order. That would be quite improper."

Darcy lowered his voice. "You must promise not to tell this to my aunt Lady Catherine."

Emma nodded eagerly.

"I have already read _Udolpho_."

"You have! So has Lizzy!"

"It is exciting even when you know. You can pretend you have forgotten, but the ending shall not be told to me out of order if I start from where _you_ are."

Emma picked out the spot, and Darcy began to read. His voice was rich and sonorous, and he changed the tone of his voice for each character and for the high points of the description. It made the story so much more exciting than when Elizabeth told it.

Emma watched Darcy and eagerly followed along as his voice rolled through the lines.

Elizabeth felt such a surge of bittersweet tenderness in her chest that she nearly began to cry. One day he would be a perfect father.

In her heart, she wished that the three of them _were_ a family.


	7. Chapter 7

Darcy had spent the morning in the dusty billiards room shooting rounds and thinking. His mind was on Elizabeth. He did not like leaving her under Lady Catherine's power. She was deeply attached to Emma, and the girl was beginning to worm her way into Darcy's affections as well.

The tones with which they talked about Lady Catherine worried him. He needed to do something to help them.

Outside the clattering hooves of a horse sounded up the lane. Darcy stepped to the open window to glance out and see who was coming.

It was a large black stallion expertly ridden by a medium-sized man in a red uniform came. A broad smile crossed Darcy's face. His cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam.

Darcy went downstairs and out into the marble hallway to greet him.

Richard did not look well; he stopped in the middle of the floor when he saw Darcy, with his legs spread wide. He was balding, and his hair had been arranged in thin curls to cover the receding hairline as best possible, but there was a vein visible when he was angry above his forehead. It pulsed vividly. Richard's lips curled back as he held his muscular frame stiffly.

"What brings you—"

"Damn you! Where is Anne!"

Richard stalked forward, clenching his fists.

Unconsciously Darcy backed away, before he stiffened and replied in a firm voice, "I believe she shall be here presently. I do not appreciate being shouted at in such a manner."

"Damn you."

Anne rushed out to them from the hallway, her slippers making a quick light patter. "Richard…"

Richard glared at her. "What were you thinking?"

"I had no choice. I never did."

Richard stalked forward and gripped her by the shoulders and exclaimed, "Good God! You had a choice."

"Forgive me. Forgive me—"

Darcy nearly started forward to separate the two. But he began to understand what the matter between them was.

Richard grabbed Anne by the wrist and dragged her into the first room down the hall, throwing her into the room and then slamming the door shut with a rattling force in a single fluid movement.

Darcy stared at the door in shock. Should he do something?

Richard's loud voice shouted through the door, "Just once! Refuse her _once_!"

So when Anne had claimed she loved another, she had meant Richard. He trusted Richard to treat his cousin as a gentlewoman, no matter the strength of his feelings, so Darcy left the house.

He could not bow out and end his unwanted engagement. He still needed to protect his sister, and Lady Catherine would not accept Richard in any case.

The sun beat down on Darcy, and he quickly began to sweat in the heat of the summer day. Darcy walked to a line of wilderness near the house that was placed so it did not ruin the great prospect found when approaching the manor from the primary direction. The gravel crunched under his feet. He paced along the shaded path.

He desperately wanted to talk to Elizabeth. She would say something to make him feel better. She might have wisdom to help him. Darcy turned towards the house to find her.

Richard came out of the house at a furious pace. Darcy watched him, but he knew there was nothing he could say now to comfort his cousin.

Darcy understood the pain of losing the one you loved.

However, when Richard saw him he turned to walk towards Darcy. Richard had a flat cold face, and he gestured for Darcy to walk with them. The two went out of the garden and through the hedges till they were hidden from the house.

"Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn. _Damn_." Richard still carried his riding whip and he snapped it about, and with every curse he slashed at the blooming flowers, destroying a blossom.

Darcy did not like to see the pointless destruction of the flowers, but he did not have any right to criticize Richard at the moment.

A bee buzzed past them, but kept a respectful distance from Richard. A brightly colored yellow and black butterfly was not so wise, and when he saw it Richard tried to strike it several times from the air, succeeding with the third slash.

Darcy put his hand cautiously on Richard's shoulder. The man turned and snarled at Darcy. Then he deflated and threw the leather whip to the ground.

"Damn her. How did she get you?"

"Georgiana. Lady Catherine knows about Wickham, and she — she thinks it was far worse than it is, and she will tell Chancey a lurid tale if she does not get her way in this matter."

"That! That's all? Are we still paying for your sister's folly after all these years?"

Darcy looked back stiffly. "It was my folly and yours, we were her guardians. It was our duty."

"And she shouldn't have been turned by the first handsome face she saw."

"If she was, the fault was in the education I — _we_ provided her."

"Now she is to destroy several more lives — but truly, is that _all_? Lady Catherine — whatever her other faults, she has always been steadfast in her adoration of our family name. She would not do it in the end."

Darcy looked to the side, over a line of trees heavy in their summer greenery, the branches flapping in the wind. He remembered his aunt's voice and mannerisms. Her throne. The shouted command to _sit_.

"Go into the house and tell her that you are calling the bluff — there will be some scandal since the marriage has been announced, and it will look poorly upon you — but those things do not last forever, while marriage does until death."

"I tried!" Darcy clenched his jaw angrily. "Do you believe I would have consented to this under any circumstance if I had not been fully convinced Lady Catherine would carry out her threat?"

"And destroy the reputation of her sister's daughter? Hardly." Richard's eyes took a calculating, menacing glint. "Are you certain you do not just wish an excuse to change your mind about Anne's fortune? Now that you have spent so many years deciding you do not wish to marry a prettier or more personable creature?"

"You love her, and yet you speak of her so?"

"I know her inner value. But you — you want to marry her. That is why you will not prove the threat is empty." Richard half raised a fist as though in preparation to strike Darcy.

"What the deuce is wrong with you? Richard, gain a hold of yourself — I begin to think you may be mad as our aunt — and she is quite mad. She raved. She said she did not believe Georgiana to _truly_ be of Fitzwilliam blood. And I do not know what idea she has concocted to gain that notion — but she will speak."

Richard blinked at Darcy. The moment hung in the thick, warm air. There was a smell that promised a thunderstorm, and the clouds had already gathered in the east. Richard unclenched his hand and ran his fingers through his balding hair. "Forgive me. I — I know you do not seek an accession of fortune. But — do not let protecting Georgiana destroy your own happiness."

"You wish to tell me that I should let Lady Catherine blacken my sister's name, because of something I failed at."

"Perhaps. She is to be an adult. She must learn to deal with consequences."

Darcy turned away from Richard and walked a dozen feet down the road.

Richard followed him.

Darcy looked back. "It shall not destroy my happiness. I have sources in myself of happiness. Besides, Anne is not…" In truth Darcy found the prospect of marriage to his cousin deeply distasteful. He forced himself to not glance down to seek a word, but instead looked to the side. He pulled off one of his gloves. It was too warm for even the thin leather. "We will be able to live together peaceably."

"Live together peaceably! That is how you speak of a wife? But I forget — you have never been in love."

Darcy felt a sick anxiety open under him. It was something he'd closed away and forced himself to not feel or touch in his mind. He didn't want to marry Anne. He wanted to find a true companion who he could enjoy speaking to and looking at, and who would make him feel alive. He desperately wanted to try to convince Elizabeth to alter her opinion of him. He loved Elizabeth.

"Do not… Do not say that. I have known love. I have known what it is to have my heart broken, and I have known what it is to recover."

There was an edge of franticness in Darcy's thoughts. He had a strange panic he'd never known before. A sense of walls closing off, and his life being robbed of opportunity.

Richard sneered at him. "What is this? Some boyish infatuation you pretend was love, real love? I have never been told anything of this story."

"I fell in love with a girl, and she refused my hand. It was not so many years ago, but…I had reasons for refraining from speaking to you before, and after…I did not wish to think about it and my shame."

Richard stared at Darcy. Slowly the hardness in his look vanished. "This cannot go on forever. We are men. Our aunt forgets this. A man will snap eventually. You can only push a man worth being a man so far before he will slash you in return."


	8. Chapter 8

"Try it again."

Emma frowned and glared at the sheet music. Elizabeth had just, ineptly, played the piece, to show something closer to how it was supposed to be done than Emma could manage. Neither of them had the patience or taste required to be truly proficient musicians, but Lady Catherine had several times complained about Emma's slow progress in the art, and rapped the girl's hand for it. So they had struggled with the keys for an hour each day for the past week, except that wonderful Sunday when Darcy walked with them in the park.

Both of them had made steady progress. However, Emma should have a proper master if she was to get a really good notion of fingering and timing, rather than Elizabeth's simple ability to play for the pleasure of the activity. However, Lady Catherine had full control of the money Emma inherited from her mother, and while Lady Catherine had hired a governess, she was unwilling to expend the money for a piano master to be brought regularly to Rosings.

Emma played the tune once more, this time producing an almost respectable sound. Elizabeth decided it was time to encourage her with praise, so she clapped her hands and hugged the girl.

"A vast improvement! Soon you shall play so beautifully everyone who hears will weep with emotion."

"Even Mr. Darcy? I liked him very much."

"Even him! Though I do not think he will weep easily. So you shall need to become _very_ skilled with the piano to achieve that. So again."

Emma sighed, and, as she always did on these lovely summer days, she stared longingly out the window.

"None of that. I wish to be outside as well, but you need to play."

Emma was halfway through the piece when Pamela entered the nursery. "You shall not believe the newest gossip." She gestured out the nearby window. "Did you see the rider who came upon us an hour ago?"

"I did not." Elizabeth glanced at Emma who had stopped playing to listen, drawn, as Elizabeth had been as well, by the magical promise of gossip.

"It is the lady's _other_ nephew, or one of them. She has two more. But his name is Colonel Fitzwilliam, and he—"

"Colonel Fitzwilliam!"

"You know him _too_? Well he is not so handsome as Mr. Darcy."

"No, hardly, but he is a charming man. One whose conversation is quite able to set a woman at her ease and make her laugh. I liked him."

"The poor man." Pamela lowered her voice and looked each way. "It is so shocking… I ought not tell you, but they were _quite_ loud. I heard clearly from inside the servant's passageway…"

"Pamela! I will not listen to a story gained by overhearing. You _know_ it is quite wrong."

Pamela pouted. So did Emma. Elizabeth added, "I am sure it is a story worth repeating. But I shall enjoy the curiosity all the better for not knowing."

"It relates to Mr. Darcy."

Elizabeth paused. Hesitating.

"Ha! That perked your interest."

Elizabeth knew she _certainly_ should not listen to something Darcy had said in confidence to his cousin. She shook her head.

"I shall not let you tell me. It would be quite dishonorable."

"You are no fun! Quite boring. Boring. Booooring." The young and rather disrespectful maid laughed, and turned to leave the room.

She was stopped by Mr. Darcy entering the room. He was pale and his hair was disordered. His eyes darted to Elizabeth and then around the room. Elizabeth felt anxiety in the pit of her stomach that she was quite sure was being transferred by some spiritual connection from Mr. Darcy to her.

Pamela curtsied deeply and immediately went to leave the room. Elizabeth said as she went out, "Emma, do go down to the kitchen with Pamela. Please, tell your aunt to give Emma some of that pastry she prepared this morning."

Pamela nodded, and Emma, with a lingering curious glance at Darcy, left the room.

Darcy pulled a hand through his hair, leaving his locks piled high atop each other in a mess. He paced to the window and looked out. Then he shook his head and muttered something under his breath and turned as though to leave.

Elizabeth stopped him with a calming hand on his arm. "Tell me. What is the matter?"

"I…" He looked at her with his wide blue eyes. Then he stammered in a low voice, "You do not wish to hear. I am not sure I should say."

"Please. Unburden yourself. I want to know anything you wish to tell me."

"It is about my cousin. He is here."

"I was just told. But tell me what the matter is. If you cannot tell him, you have no one else here who you can give the story to."

Darcy looked back out the window.

Elizabeth looked at her hand still on the shoulder of his coat. She began to feel awkward and wondered if she had been too forward.

Darcy began to speak. "I knew. She told me that she was in love with another man. But… I do not think I believed her capable of it. I seem to think poorly of my betrothed. She said she could not refuse her mother in any case. Maybe Lady Catherine has some control over her such as she does over me. Maybe it is not just cowardice."

"What did you discover?" She pressed her hand into his arm. A reassuring touch.

"They love each other. My cousin, my dearest friend, and the woman I must marry. They are in love, and I have no choice but to stay between them. I can see no other choice. What would you do in my situation? Elizabeth, I feel terrible."

Elizabeth saw the pain in his eyes before he looked away, as though he was ashamed of his vulnerability.

Elizabeth had never felt so much affection for Darcy as she did in this moment when he came to her in his hurt. But she did not know what to advise him. She wished to tell him to end his engagement to Anne and marry her. But that would be selfish, and Elizabeth did not know if Darcy's tender feelings towards her still existed. Even if they did, Elizabeth could not leave Emma.

She said at last, "You are a good man."

"My cousin! I cannot — but he is also Georgiana's guardian. He wishes me to end it with Anne. His duty goes in the same direction as mine. But…I do not wish this. I do not _want_ to marry her. There is nothing I wish less at this moment. Richard suspected my motives and thought I wish Anne's fortune. I _know_ he is wrong, but I cannot be angry at him now. I know what it is to have a heart broken. A man is not himself at such a time."

Elizabeth touched his arm again. She said something reassuring in a quiet, soft voice, though she had no real sense of what she said.

Darcy took her hand and pressed his own fingers into hers. "I do not know the right thing to do. Even were I to expose us all to Lady Catherine's anger, Anne would not make her own choice to fight for her happiness. Her sole hope of happiness was that Lady Catherine would die before ordering her to marry. Richard sees it as my choice alone. _She_ could have refused me. A woman can refuse, even against the wishes of her mother. It is not churlish to believe it is her responsibility to do so. _You_ had no difficulty in making a refusal."

"No. I…" She felt as though she had made a terrible mistake then. "But I…"

"Lady Catherine may be more formidable than your mother. But Anne is weak. She always has been."

Elizabeth squeezed Darcy's hand.

He let out a long breath and let go of her hand. He looked at the window and stood taller. "I am unhappy, but I will not wallow in such feelings."

Tears entered Elizabeth's eyes.

Darcy looked at her. He brushed at her cheek with one finger. "Don't cry…please don't. Not for me. Lizzy, I…thank you. From the depths of my soul I thank you. You were so kind to listen to me. But don't cry."

"I cannot help it."

"I needed to speak with someone. With _you_. I am more settled. When I can speak to you in such a way…it does leave me feeling happy, and almost content. But I cannot be really happy, not now. If only…"

"Yes." They looked into each other's eyes. Elizabeth breathed out her desperate wish for a world in which she could take back her foolish, youthful refusal and marry him. "If only…"

The door opened again. When they heard the knob turn Elizabeth and Darcy unwillingly moved apart. Elizabeth felt sadder than she ever had before, and happier. She'd thought that she had experienced the full range of human emotions, but that was not true. It was new, and it was precious. This intense bittersweet emotion that filled her now that she understood Darcy still loved her.

Colonel Fitzwilliam entered the room. "Darcy, I must apologize. I was distraught — I should never have spoken to you in that way — oh, pardon!"

The past years had not improved his appearance. He was half bald now, and he had an ugly purple scar along his cheek. There also was a hardness that seemed to stick about him which had not been there in the fashionable young gentleman she remembered.

Elizabeth smiled at him and held out her hand to him. "Hello, it is good to see you again."

He peered at her, before exclaiming, "Good God! Miss Elizabeth Bennet." He took her hand and shook it. "What do you do here?"

"I am the governess to Lady Catherine's ward, Emma Williams."

"No! The illegitimate brat? And you a governess?"

Elizabeth pulled her hand away coldly and frowned.

Darcy spoke sharply. "She is a fine girl. A sweet and clever creature who Elizabeth is most attached to."

Colonel Fitzwilliam looked at Darcy and then back at Elizabeth. "I apologize, Miss Bennet. I should not insult your charge — a woman like you! You deserve better than such a post."

Colonel Fitzwilliam had left the door open, and Emma entered again, carrying something in her hand and with a bit of jam on her cheeks. She hurried over to Elizabeth's side. "Mrs. Shore told me to give this to you," she said handing Elizabeth a slightly crushed pastry. Half hiding behind Elizabeth she looked at the new gentleman with curiosity.

"Emma, this is Colonel Fitzwilliam, another nephew of Lady Catherine."

"We did meet you once before. When you were first here."

Emma nodded and smiled at him a little before looking towards Elizabeth again.

Colonel Fitzwilliam turned to Darcy. "I need a fencing partner, and I can think of no one else I'd rather swing a sword at than you."


	9. Chapter 9

Dinner had been dreadful.

It was _always_ a terrible bore with Anne and Lady Catherine. About half the nights some guest had been invited, most often Mr. Hawdry the local magistrate, who was a close friend of Lady Catherine. Her guests were usually quite old, and they thought like Lady Catherine and admired her excessively. Dinner with Lady Catherine's friends bored him almost as much as dinner with Anne and Lady Catherine.

He'd been ordered by his aunt to stay at Rosings until the wedding, and he would stay. He would elaborately display that he had stayed at dinner each night.

Richard's presence added awkward to boring. Richard tried to keep conversation going, but it was desultory. He and Anne looked at each other constantly, sometimes without bothering to hide their gaze from Lady Catherine. Lady Catherine took the silence of everyone else as a fine reason to lecture Richard about his dress, about how best to manage his regiment, and about how they had made a terrible mess of things by exiling Napoleon again instead of executing him.

"Mark my words! I do not care that he is stuck on an island in the midst of the vast ocean, and guarded by the whole fleet of Britain. That cunning creature will find some way to gain the loyalty of his jailors, and then he will take a ship back to Europe and raise another army and this time he will win. Wellington said Waterloo was a close-run thing — next time we'll lose, and he will cut all our heads off."

Richard rolled his eyes. "The crown hardly asked my opinion — though I would never have suggested he be executed. He broke his parole, but in every other respect he proved to be an honorable opponent. He had no need for blackmail to achieve his purposes. He built up _his_ family. He did not care who was the eldest and who was the second son. In _some_ families people care for their relatives only if they are first sons and rich. But Napoleon gave _his_ brothers responsible positions and kingdoms."

"Boney is a despicable grotesque parvenu. He disordered everything. I can stand anything but disorder."

"When Napoleon came back and faced the army of Marshal Ney sent to execute him, do you know you what he did? He opened his shirt to display his naked breast to the army and said, _if any of you shall shoot your emperor, do it now_. That is a man. A true man. Not some coward hiding behind a woman's rights."

Anne said softly, "But it is the place of a woman to be a woman."

Darcy pushed his mind to remember Elizabeth's soft hand on his shoulder. He would not let the anxiety set in once again. It would do none of them any good for him to feel miserable.

Richard spent the remainder of the dinner sharply disagreeing with every piece of advice Lady Catherine offered, which made his aunt sneer at him in a knowing way.

When dinner ended and they proceeded to the drawing room, Darcy looked at the piano and the window through which the reddish dying sun shone. He looked at the thick red rug on the carpet. He looked at the empty fireplace. He looked at the painting of Lady Catherine and Sir Lewis above the mantelpiece.

Anne sat quietly at Lady Catherine's side, while Richard sat next to her. He and Lady Catherine started to argue about policy once more. Lady Catherine said, "Come here, Darcy. You are to be my son. Explain to your cousin why he is wrong."

"I quite would prefer not to."

"You should be more obedient."

Darcy's face hardened. "I am no dog you can call to heel."

"Hahahaha." Richard slapped his leg. "Here is some of the Darcy spirit. You are not _yet_ a dog for our aunt to play with. But do not worry. You will come around to obeying in good time."

He needed some way to change the tone of this evening. "I wish some entertainment. Miss Bennet is present in the house, and I recall she has a fine skill with the piano. I would also like to see Emma again. She is a sweet girl who I've taken to. Do have them called in from the nursery."

Lady Catherine shrugged. "As you wish. Your memory deceives you as to Miss Bennet's talents, they are poor, but I have not quizzed that child on her studies for some days. She is entirely recalcitrant. But it would be improper for her to have too great accomplishments. She should not outshine a noble girl such as my Anne, even if Anne is limited by her ill health."

Anne looked pale and grey now. But when she smiled at Richard while Lady Catherine turned away from them to pull the bell and call the servant, there was a little of a glow in Anne.

Rather than wearing her hair down in the pretty curls she'd worn on Sunday, Elizabeth had pulled her hair into a tight severe knot, which pulled her skin back and made her look strained and unhappy. Darcy frowned a little at her. It was the look of a shrewish governess, not the beautiful young woman she was.

"Well, Miss Bennet!" Lady Catherine's thundering voice brought Elizabeth and Emma to her side. "What have you been doing with your charge of late?"

"We have been working on the standard accomplishments. Emma drew a pretty picture for you, and I am teaching her to net a screen, and we have worked on the piano a great deal." Elizabeth gestured towards the instrument. "If you wish us to demonstrate."

"The kings of England, in order."

Emma blinked at Lady Catherine's order. "Start. This is the sort of matter I consider of more importance than _any_ other for her. She will never be a true gentlewoman, but through the study of history she may gain some moral grounding. It would be wrong if by acquiring false accomplishments — for without distinguished breeding she shall never have true taste in drawing or music — she might appear to outshine a lady such as my Anne by a facile facility. However the moral lessons of history are true. Recite the kings of England in order."

Darcy felt acid burning up his stomach as Emma gnawed on her lip, while Elizabeth fidgeted nervously, looking every direction but at him. She wrung her hands together.

Emma at last said, "Alfred the Great was the first king."

Lady Catherine put her hands in her lap and leaned forward, watching Emma's face like a hawk closing in upon a mouse.

"Very good," she cooed in a sugared voice, full of menace. "And the second king?"

"His son Edward the Elder. And then his son Aethelstan. And then…" Emma paused and swallowed. She paused for a long time.

Lady Catherine's eyes seemed to slowly light up as the last rays of the dimming sunlight shone on her.

Emma burst out, "Edward the Martyr."

 _Crack_. Before Darcy could move Lady Catherine had slapped Emma hard across the face. She then looked at Elizabeth. "Miss Bennet, you have been remiss in the teaching of history. I shall expect next time I speak with your charge that she have all our noble monarchs memorized. She also ought to have the line of the Roman Emperors memorized. Mr. Darcy wished for you entertain him. Music, I believe."

Lady Catherine waved her hand absently.

Darcy stood angrily. Even as Elizabeth curtsied to his aunt he bit out, "This is unacceptable. I will not accept this. Madam, any agreement between us — I will end any agreement if I ever see any indication of you behaving in such an unacceptable manner again. A child! You struck a child."

"My dear nephew, I hope when you have children—"

"You shall never see any children I have. You shall be my inveterate enemy if you behave in this manner. I can accept much, but _this_ , this I will not accept. Without delay speak to your lawyer and transfer the guardianship of this girl to Anne and I. If you do not, I shall not…I swear I shall not accept your other demands — to slap a child over such a matter. That is too far."

Lady Catherine snarled, "You do not give me orders. Not about children. Not about any matter. You are to serve me! I am the one to give orders to you. I know how you raise children. I know what comes when a child is in _your_ care."

"Madam! We are in company."

"So you wish me to remain silent. Miss Bennet has no one she can tell. Everyone else here is family. If you wish silence, you will obey me. Obey, and be silent."

"I will do the thing you asked. I will _submit_ so far. I am not your dog. If you ask more, if you refuse me this…I will not accept it. If you harm this child further…" Darcy swallowed. Something his cousin had said earlier in the day rose to his mind. "Push a man too far and he will snap. When you slapped this girl… Give me protection of the girl, or I shall refuse everything. When Anne and I marry, Emma shall come to live with us. You are no fit guardian for a child."

Lady Catherine and Darcy glared at each other.

Darcy's heart beat fast. His chest was tight with rage and resentment. His muscles were tight with the repressed desire to fight.

Darcy watched Elizabeth's pale face as she observed the confrontation. It possibly was wrong, but he would throw even his sister's reputation away to protect Emma because Elizabeth loved her.

Lady Catherine rose with a disgusted grunt. "Enough. Emma is a filthy girl. Ignorant and savage. I am done with you all tonight. Done. Nephew, you are a fool. You shall end what slender hope I had for reforming this filthy girl's character. She will be a sinner. She will be filthy like her filthy whore mother. But I'll give the filthy creature to you. I hope you learn to beat her."

The old woman haltingly stepped her way out of the room while everyone watched in silence. She slammed the door behind her.

Anne snorted. "I have no interest in the brat. Why do _you_ want her — Oh! Very clever. I had thought better of you, but very clever. You have arranged a mistress right under my nose. Miss Bennet, I also thought better of you. Your sister _is_ in the same profession. I should not be surprised that _you_ turn to it as well."

"I do not—" Darcy began.

Anne rose. "I do not care to hear your denial. It is obvious you like her vastly more than me. I wish you would not flaunt it."

She left the room.

Richard looked at Elizabeth with a speculative frown.

Elizabeth looked away from the three of them and studied the painting over the fireplace. She had deep red spots in her cheeks.

He now could protect Emma and Elizabeth from Lady Catherine, but Darcy was not sure if this evening was a disaster or a victory. He pulled in a deep breath. "Miss Bennet, I assure you; I would never act in a dishonorable manner."

Elizabeth nodded coldly and did not look at him.

"What's a mistress?" Emma asked in her high-pitched child's voice.

There was a long moment of silence and Darcy winced, fearing that Elizabeth would never speak to him again.

She laughed. "Dear, it is time for you to go to bed. Goodnight, Mr. Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam. Goodnight."


	10. Chapter 10

It was such a beautiful day.

The breeze fluttered through the curtains, cooling Elizabeth and Emma, and bringing the scent of green. An adventurous bee rose to the second floor window. It flew into the room and hovered in front of the window before turning round and descending again, to Elizabeth's relief and Emma's disappointment. In the distance men shouted at each other as they worked, and birds shouted to each other with their caws and songs as they went about their day.

Unfortunately, Elizabeth and her charge were trapped in the hot house.

Lady Catherine might visit at any time, and she would dislike it if Elizabeth tried to explain that she gave the lesson outdoors due to the weather. Lessons were supposed to be indoors, and that was that.

Elizabeth did not want to make Emma study. It was too beautiful a day. She should be running around outside happily. Emma could barely concentrate on her book or listening to Elizabeth's advice. Elizabeth could barely concentrate on teaching her and forcing her to attend to the task. She'd spent nearly as much time dreamily staring out the window at the green grass as her pupil.

It would be so nice if she could walk again with Mr. Darcy.

Even if it was _wrong_ to feel as she did for a man who was engaged to another woman — Anne had made the wrongness of her desires clear to her — Mr. Darcy was so kind, and so capable, and so determined, and his face looked so…perfectly proportioned. When he walked in his tightly tailored riding jacket her heart thumped…and there was the way his buckskin breeches clung around his thighs.

So long as it was just her imagination…

Elizabeth shook herself and poked Emma. "Have you finished reading that passage from the Chronicles of the Kings of England?"

"It is so boring! I'll never memorize them all. They are too boring! We are going to live with Mr. Darcy. He won't hurt me. So I shouldn't need to memorize them."

"History should be amusing — you were reading about Edward I and his children. There is a story about his son that Lady Catherine would not approve of, that may help you remember him. Did you read about his wife? Isabella?"

"She was from France, and the daughter of the king of France. It was a good marriage for England."

"It wasn't a good marriage for Edward II, though. She wasn't very nice. It is not in _this_ book, because this is the one Lady Catherine picked. She thinks you should only hear the most _moral_ parts of history."

Emma nodded. "Lady Catherine would select the _boring_ version."

Elizabeth had her audience now. Emma expected a good story.

"Isabella hated her husband. In fact she raised a rebellion against him and encouraged all the other nobles to side against him."

Emma nodded eagerly. "That is a good wifely behavior. I must memorize it for when it comes time for me to marry."

"You must. Furthermore, she won. As you should know from your book, Edward was deposed."

"Deposed? Such a big word. What does it mean?"

"It means removed from power."

"Oh. I should have known that. But he died right after, didn't he? So he didn't miss the power for very long."

"Yes." Elizabeth lowered her voice. "Isabella was so unhappy by how he'd treated her that she had him killed."

"But the book said he died in an accident."

Elizabeth whispered, "That is what _Isabella_ told everyone. But she lied. There is more—"

"More! But what more could there be if she killed him!"

Elizabeth blushed. The story her father told her when she was Emma's age was _not_ appropriate for the ears of a young girl. But it would ensure that Emma remembered Edward II. "Do not tell Lady Catherine I told you this story."

Emma rolled her eyes.

"Isabella had Edward II stuck in one of her castles. Then she had the castellan heat up an iron rod very, very hot. And then…they stuck it up his bum and kept shoving until he died."

The girl shivered with horrified glee.

"The screams echoed in the rafters for years. In fact if you go to that castle now, and stand in exactly the right spot, you can still faintly hear them."

Emma's eyes were wide and eager.

"Remember, that is what happened to the king after Longshanks, who fought the Scots, and before Edward III, who fought the French."

"What happened to the queen? Did she continue to rule?"

"For a time. But when her son took full power, he stuck _her_ in a castle and forced her to live the rest of her life there. Twenty years. What moral lesson should be drawn from this story?"

Emma stuck her tongue out. "A true queen should murder her son in addition to her husband?"

Elizabeth giggled.

There was a knock on the door and Darcy entered. "Might I interrupt your and Miss Williams's important studies for a period of time?"

He was smirking sunnily, as though he knew how little work he was interrupting.

Emma exclaimed, "Oh yes! I am quite dying of boredom."

Elizabeth laughed and poked the child. "She only says that to be kind. In fact she is completely devoted to her work and devastated that your entry distracted her from it."

"I can see that in Emma's face. Perhaps I'd best go." Darcy turned as though he were about to leave, and Emma's face collapsed in disappointment and she looked at Elizabeth with such an expression of betrayal that Elizabeth could not keep her countenance and began laughing.

Darcy turned back with raised eyebrows. "May I imagine you have changed your mind, Emma?"

The girl pouted and stuck her tongue out at him as well as Elizabeth. "Do not tease me like that."

"But you are such a darling goose when I fool you," Elizabeth said, embracing the girl.

"As for me, I shall earn your forgiveness through bribery. I have a surprise for you." Darcy smirked. "Follow me; it is much too pretty of a day to be stuck indoors. It is practically criminal."

Emma took Darcy's hand as he led them downstairs.

They went outdoors, the entire way Darcy teased Emma as she begged for _some_ hint as to what he planned to show her. But he would regularly glance back at Elizabeth with that bright look in his eyes. Her stomach leaped.

They went out to a large field that had been cleared for exercising the horses. With a groom stood a lovely pied pony with a broad chest and a neatly clipped mane.

"Every girl needs a pony." Darcy spoke firmly. "You are _almost_ big enough for a horse, but that should wait another year or two."

Emma's eyes lit up. "I always, always, always wanted one! Mama said we would buy one, but we did not have the chance. Is it for me?"

"It is your pony."

Darcy pulled from the deep pocket of his coat half of an apple. He handed it to Emma, who excitedly held the fruit out to the pony, who munched it and then licked Emma's hand. She giggled with happiness.

Darcy lifted her up onto the handsome animal, and spent some minutes explaining how she should hold her legs and the reins as she rode. He was so serious and careful. He made sure the eager girl understood all his instructions and repeated them back before leading her around the field twice while he walked next to her pony. Then she was allowed to go around on her own, though the groom followed closely behind. In an easy movement, Darcy put his hand on the fence and leapt over the paddock to stand where Elizabeth leaned against the fence watching them.

"She is delighted. I confess horses frighten me a little." Elizabeth's eyes closely tracked Emma as she smoothly rode the pony in a neat circle.

"They do? That is a pity, for horses are the sweetest animals in the world."

"Dogs are the sweetest animals in the world — especially puppies." Elizabeth forced herself to stop watching Emma as though at any moment she would be thrown and crack her head. She looked at Darcy with a challenging smile.

He said, "I confess I have a few dogs I would miss greatly. And who have an even sweeter disposition than my horse. But since I was wrong, I must find something different to disagree with you upon. It is proving a harder task than I imagined, since _you_ reason so persuasively."

Emma rode up to the fence next to them and waved at Elizabeth. "Did you see me! Did you! I am so good!"

"You are the finest rider in the county." Elizabeth touched the hand Emma held out to her. "Be careful."

Emma laughed and set off around the park again.

Darcy touched Elizabeth's shoulder. "There is little danger. I would not have let her, if—"

"I know. But…one cannot be brave in everything. I rise to most occasions."

"I admire that about you. Greatly." He spoke in a low serious voice. His voice vibrated in Elizabeth's chest.

She quickly looked away, smiling. "Emma does not treat every adult in such a way. It speaks well of you — I never imagined you would be perfect with a child."

"No! I can imagine you did not. You never allowed me _any_ such virtue as liking children."

"I did not. I also imagined you unable to enjoy the company of puppies. In fact I believe I was quite certain that you…" Elizabeth blushed, deciding the joke she wished to tell was too much.

"What were you certain about me?" He smiled that distracting, dancing smirk.

"Uh…"

"Please tell me? What did you imagine I did?"

"You went around biting the heads off of puppies."

"Did you?" Darcy raised his eyebrows.

Elizabeth pursed her lips and nodded vigorously. "Puppies. Heads. Biting. I thought you were a troll who lived under a bridge — the bridge was named Pemberley — and that you came out to attack children and puppies."

"That… It is completely untrue. I have owned many puppies. I find them adorable. And I never ate any of them."

"Not even one?"

"No."

Elizabeth poked her tongue into the side of her mouth. "Pity. You would be far more interesting if you had."

Darcy now giggled. He lowered his voice and caught Elizabeth's eye. "I do have a shameful confession to make."

She nodded seriously. "But not about harming puppies."

"No. About your other accusation."

Elizabeth blinked in confusion, having no idea what Darcy was talking about.

He held her eye and said solemnly, "In fact, I _am_ one eighth troll. But we never speak of that branch of the family."

"Ohhhhh. A shameful relative!"

"Lady Catherine takes after them. You can see the resemblance in her easily. She is three eighths troll."

"You _can_ see the resemblance! Tell Emma. She will be delighted to learn that she was right."

"Emma believes Lady Catherine to be part troll?" At Elizabeth's nod he turned to the girl who had circled round the sandy field and was coming towards them again. "Fine form! Fine form!"

The girl beamed and waved at them as she jauntily rode the animal towards them. Darcy leaned towards Elizabeth and said, looking into her eyes once more, "I must get her a second pony. She shows great perception."

Elizabeth laughed.

Emma came close, and Darcy and she exchanged words about the pony.

Elizabeth began to feel guilty about insulting the woman who was now her patron. Lady Catherine did believe in physical discipline for Emma, but she did not go to extremes. Elizabeth had heard stories of parents who'd treated their children far more horribly.

Not every woman would have accepted an illegitimate ward, even if they _were_ the only relative, and most women would not have hired Elizabeth. Her servants largely liked the lady. She demanded subservience, but the lower orders had been bred and trained to provide it. They did not mind being told to be more subservient.

"I should not laugh at Lady Catherine. You must be curious, about my sister Lydia. You have cause to hate your aunt, but I should not. She hired me, even though she knew all of the particulars."

"You need not tell me. It does not matter."

"You say that — I even believe you — but any change will be for the worse. Surely you do wish to know the details."

Darcy put his hand over Elizabeth's and she felt a fluttering at seeing their bodies so closely together. "It is only curiosity. I will not judge. Not her, and certainly not you."

"You have my leave to judge Lydia — Lord! I judge her." Elizabeth smiled at Darcy. "I hate it when I say that word: 'Lord.' I can hear my mother — it was her favorite word during our _annus horribilis_. 'Lord! If only you girls had married,' 'Lord! If only my husband had been immortal!' 'Lord! If only my brother had not trusted the wrong man' — by the way, the bankruptcy was more my uncle's fault than that of any of his partners. They all made mistakes."

"Business matters always involve risk. I am sorry for him — your affection for him is clear."

"He is a good man, and he is struggling to pay back the partners who trusted his scheme, even though he is now quite poor."

Darcy squeezed Elizabeth's hand. "He must be deserving of your praise, for you do not praise lightly."

Elizabeth flushed. "I've praised undeserving people — _you_ know that."

"But you did not do so _lightly_."

Elizabeth giggled and bit her lip. She loved how he had learned to tease her and could turn her words around. "I was _heavy_ in foolishness at the time. I've learned to be…not more discerning, but more able to accept my ability for error since then. I was quite wrong about you."

"You were not. That day was the most valuable of my life, and the most painful except that of my father's death."

"You took my words so seriously?"

"The memory has been a precious torment to me, but more precious than torment."

Elizabeth pulled her lip under her teeth and smiled. "You turned it to good account. I like to hear that I had such an influence over a man — my pride is not completely dissipated — I needed to learn as well. The mistakes were not _just_ yours—" Elizabeth looked into his eyes again. "However, honesty compels me to give you a large share of the mistakes."

Darcy laughed merrily, his eyes brightening.

They both quieted and looked into each other's eyes. Darcy turned his eyes to check on Emma and the groom shadowing her.

He didn't move his hand away from hers.

Elizabeth looked down. His large hand and its smooth leather riding glove covered her much smaller fingers. "I want you to know about Lydia. I trust you to. I have learned that I can trust you."

"You can always trust me. I swear that."

"Lydia went to Brighton — I already told you that. And then she fled with Wickham. You have heard _that_ part."

"It was my fault. If only I had exposed him—"

"And you already said that to me. It is ridiculous though. Lydia begged him to take her with him. She wanted an intrigue, even if she expected marriage then. Wickham simply was the man she chose."

Darcy had a steady gaze that stayed on her face. She met his eyes again. "Lydia behaved poorly because it was in her character to do so. That is not your fault."

"What happened next?"

There was something in his eyes that made butterflies fill her stomach. He looked so compassionate and understanding, and _caring_. It made Elizabeth want to cry with some sort of relief. "The normal matter. You know this was when my father died. He set out with Colonel Forster to track them along the road to Scotland. There was no evidence of them upon the Great Northern Road. So they looked about for evidence in London. This continued for some time. We never found evidence _then_ of where she had been."

"You should have come to me. I would have had some idea where to look for him. And if I found them, I would have made Wickham marry her."

"You! The idea never occurred to me."

"I wish it had. I wish you…you said you trusted me. If ever you are in such desperate need of help, trust me. I will do whatever I must to rescue you from it."

Elizabeth laid her hand on his shoulder. She felt his thick muscles through the thin cotton fabric of his summer coat. Elizabeth felt some spiritual force jumped betwixt them at her touch. There was something intense in his eyes. He felt it too. She said, "I should have gone to you."

"You only knew a proud and arrogant man."

"I was wrong."

"No. It is that I have changed."

"You have, but you always would have helped us to find Lydia."

"Yes." He was quiet and stared into her eyes.

Elizabeth broke the connection between them, remembering that they were in public, and the groom who was watching after Emma certainly could see them. She looked emptily towards the field, feeling her stomach fluttering and flying high. She was full of happiness.

Darcy quietly asked, "Lydia, did she return to your family after Wickham tired of her?"

"Only after Papa died."

Darcy put his hand on hers again.

Elizabeth squeezed her eyes to keep back tears. "Thank you for being so comforting. It took him quickly. So quickly that…that there was no time. I never saw him again. When I went to the north, we'd parted on poor terms because I'd argued with him to not allow Lydia to travel. Maybe he pushed himself so hard to find her because he didn't wish to return to me and admit he'd been wrong."

"It was not your fault."

"I know, but I…when I think of it, I feel bad. As though it _was_ my fault. Other things were my fault. We lost the house because of me."

"It would have been ridiculous for you to marry _Collins_." Darcy spat the name out in a disgusted voice.

Somehow it made Elizabeth feel better.

The two fell silent. Elizabeth looked at Emma. The girl trotted the pied pony up to the fence. "Lizzy! Did you see how I have kept such a good control over her?"

"You will make a fine horsewoman, quite unlike me."

Emma said proudly, "I will teach you once I am sufficiently skilled, and then you will be the apprentice and I the teacher." The girl giggled and winked at Elizabeth and rode off.

Elizabeth shook her head in amusement. She said to Darcy, "Thank you once more for providing this for Emma."

Darcy said, " _That_ was why you arrived that morning to nurse Miss Jane with muddy skirts and a sweaty dress. I had wondered why you hadn't ridden."

Elizabeth hit Darcy's arm. "Shame. Shame for reminding me that I _ever_ looked so poorly in front of you."

Darcy smirked back at her. "Poorly? I admired your appearance _excessively_. You looked exceptionally fetching."

They looked into each other's eyes again. He had such blue irises. Darcy recollected himself this time, as the sound of hooves came closer again. He looked away.

Elizabeth looked down. "I ought to complete the scandalous story about my sister. Fever took my father, then Wickham abandoned her. When he did, Lydia was visibly with child. She lived with my aunt and uncle for a time, but she did not like the rules they placed on her behavior. We all lived with them then. The house was crowded, and my uncle's trade had already begun to fail. Money was tight, and Lydia received no ribbons, spending money, or little comforts that she had always been used to."

"You had lost them too."

"Yes, but _I_ could be a philosopher about the matter. Mostly — fine goose pens, I really miss the best pens. It is a small thing, but…"

"It is the small things that matter most." Darcy smiled at her. "And I know what present to give you for your birthday."

Elizabeth blushed. "That was _not_ a request."

"Which is why it will be all the sweeter to fulfill it — I would hope, should I suffer reverses, that I would act as nobly as you."

"Shame, Mr. Darcy, you shall give me a quite large head. Shame."

"I should only be shamed because I barely praise you halfway to your due."

Elizabeth laughed. "I adore how you can say such with a straight face."

He looked disconcerted. Elizabeth grinned happily, even though she was telling the story of Lydia, she was happy.

She looked back out at Emma, who waved at her, but continued to make the pony prance her way around the yard. "After the birth of the child — it was an easy birth — she left the house and her child. We did not know anything of her for some months. Then she sent a letter to Kitty explaining how she had become the mistress of a middling gentleman, and that there was a neighbor of her patron who would be quite pleased to look at Kitty as a prospect. Lydia wrote that Kitty should come immediately, so that they could be together again."

"That—" Darcy whistled and shook his head. "That is… At least she showed a little concern for her sister — I recall seeing them stick together a great deal."

"I believe Lydia would have gained a fee as a procuress. Maybe your interpretation is true — Lydia since has changed her patron twice, or that is how often she has written to us of changing him. She once wrote for money. But after our refusal, she found a new patron. We have not heard of her for six months now…"

Despite how she trusted Darcy, now that she had finished the story, Elizabeth found it hard to look at him.

He touched her hand again, and then moved it away when she looked at him. "I could not _possibly_ judge any person by the behavior of their relations. Not any longer. It would be the rankest hypocrisy."

Elizabeth blinked. "What your sister did — she never did anything else, simply agreeing to an elopement is not—"

"I speak of Lady Catherine." Darcy's face clouded, and he spat out the name like a vicious curse word.

"Oh."

"There is nothing in your sister's story so vile as how she has forced me into this engagement."

"I…I wish you did not need to marry Anne. You are too good…" Elizabeth had a sudden vision of a world where he did not need to marry. Where he did not care about Georgiana more than himself and her. She bit her lip to keep from crying. But even then she could not be happy. When he married Anne, Lady Catherine would transfer Emma to his care, and then her Emma would be safe. It was so strange that Darcy's marrying Anne would protect Emma. There was no way that they could all be happy.

"You are crying. Elizabeth — don't cry…please, Lizzy…"

"You are not crying. One of us must cry. It is my place as the woman — but you feel the _unfairness_ , the _injustice_ , as clearly as I can."

He raised a finger to brush the tears off her cheek, and then he drew it away as Emma came up on her pony. They were not alone.

Emma jumped off the animal and threw her arms around Elizabeth's waist. "What is the matter? What is wrong?"

Emma glanced at Mr. Darcy with an accusing look.

Elizabeth pulled Emma tight against her. "I heard a sad story. But it is all right. But let me hold you for a while."

Emma squeezed her back tightly.


	11. Chapter 11

George Wickham smiled at the pretty maid who'd brought him upstairs the last time he visited Lady Catherine when he encountered her leaving a small village next to the Rosings. "Miss Pamela, do stop — that dress makes you appear delightfully smart and trim."

Wickham took her hand and smiled at the girl's eyes. He held her hand caressingly before he kissed it softly.

She giggled. "My mysterious gentleman friend! What brought your return?"

"I traveled all the way from London solely to gaze upon your face."

She laughingly blushed and looked away. "I know you did not."

"Perhaps gazing upon you is merely the best part of my trip — that is not merely a statement."

She looked at him with a pretty flush.

Wickham suspected from Miss Pamela's confidence when she laughed that while he might be able to convince her to kiss him, this was not a girl who would be easily seduced to give him free entertainment tonight.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Wickham darted forward and kissed her cheek. "I have a dreadful confession: It was to see your mistress that I left the capital."

"No!" She laughed. "But you said it was for me! I shall never trust another man again. You wish me to help you come in through the back again? Is my Lady expecting you?"

"She is not. But I think she shall be glad to see me. Yes, the servant's stairs, and I can hide in them until you bring her word. She knows our business is a matter of importance."

Pamela giggled again. "You must tell me what this secretive matter is."

"Nay, it is too secretive. Though perhaps—" Wickham put his hand on her head and brought her into kiss him. She pushed him away and wagged a finger, "You are a quite bad man."

"Does that excite you?"

Pamela laughed. "I like you, but I know you do not have any honest intentions. I'll not be your game."

Wickham shrugged. "That is wise of you. You should not trust me." He pulled her head forward again, and this time she let him kiss her.

Pamela danced away from him. "Do tell! Do tell what the special matter is that you are engaged in with Lady Catherine."

"Do tell, do tell. What is the special matter beneath your skirts?"

She snorted and shook her red face. "Be that way. I will imagine you are both engaged in smuggling. It makes you terribly romantic to think of you engaged in the Noble Trade and facing danger and those dreadful customs agents every week."

Wickham winked at her. "Maybe I am a smuggler."

They walked to the estate through the woods, and Wickham took two more opportunities to kiss the young woman, and she let him get a proper feel. However, while she was breathing quite heavily, she always waggled her finger in his face and stopped him before matters became too heated.

When they reached the house, Wickham looked about cautiously before he hurried into the back entrance. He was not precisely scared of Fitzwilliam Darcy…but he would really prefer not to meet the man.

Pamela led him again through the servant's staircases to a door hidden by a painting that led into the Mistress's sitting room. Wickham gave her a small note to hand to Lady Catherine. As she opened the door to the sitting room, he reached out quickly to pinch her on the bum. Pamela made no noise, but winked at him as she closed the door behind her.

When Pamela returned five minutes later, she was pale and whispered, holding the door open for him to enter, "Lady Catherine will see you, but she is not pleased."

Wickham shrugged and walked in. Pamela closed the door, and Wickham wondered if she disappeared off to do her other duties, or was staying in the hallway to try to overhear their conversation.

Lady Catherine sat on her large chair with a scowl and a jewelry box open upon her lap that she sifted through. "What possible cause have you to disturb me. Our business is done."

"Cathy! Cathy, dear. No friendliness? No greeting? Nothing but a demand to leave? I am hurt."

Wickham looked about the room and decided to sprawl on her couch and then spread his legs and arms out as widely as possible.

"If you do not explain yourself, I will have you beaten and thrown out."

"Ahhh, you see, our business had finished, but then my dear godfather's son became engaged to your…hmmm, lovely is not the correct term… Darcy became engaged to your distinguished daughter. And upon hearing the news, I raised a toast to his happiness — we have been enemies, but there is some fondness. You can hardly be surprised that I would become sentimental upon hearing that my closest childhood companion is to marry."

"What is your point?"

Wickham smiled widely. He loved the temper into which he could put this woman so easily. She was such a silly creature who truly believed the whole world revolved around her and her wishes. And she'd rather lost whatever pragmatic sense she'd ever had.

Simply giving him a thousand pounds without any guarantees last time he'd visited? He'd expected to gain maybe a fifth of that sum. The thousand pounds had paid all his debts of honor, bought him a new suit of clothes from an excellent tailor who had long since learned to demand payment in advance from Wickham, a fine horse, and a long drinking binge, during which he gambled the horse away.

After the hangover, Wickham had only a few fivers left to settle his debt with his landlord. He gathered his new suit and other important belongings and sneaked from the building. While walking to a friend's lodging, Wickham found that his headache was worsened by the awful, awful glare of the noonday sun glinting off the Thames.

It was too hot in London. Muggy, and sweaty. And the damned glare. He should get out of town until the weather cooled. If only he had more money.

Then Wickham's happy genius intervened. He had a beautiful idea.

If Lady Catherine was so determined to be generous, he ought to give her opportunity to exercise this newly discovered trait. At her age, she might not be long for the world, and it would be good for her soul to shower her goods upon the less fortunate.

Now he was here with her Ladyship once more. Wickham grinned widely at Lady Catherine.

It was only when she struggled to her feet to grab the bell pull that he held up his hand to delay her. "I suspect Mr. Darcy is in fact unhappy about this marriage. He had so many opportunities to ask Miss de Bourgh before, and the announcement came just a few days after my visit. Cathy, are you" — Wickham lowered his voice and forced a serious expression. He glanced from side to side, as though checking to make sure they were alone — "are you blackmailing Mr. Darcy with my information?"

Lady Catherine glared at him, gripping the cane she kept with her between her gnarled hands.

Wickham let his question hang in the air. Then he theatrically widened his eyes and clutched at his chest. "Cathy! Cathy! No — say it is not so! Not you! I would never, never have believed this of you. I thought you wanted to protect the Earl of Chancey from Georgiana's contamination…not this! I am shocked, shocked to find you involved in such an enterprise."

"What do you want!"

"Now, Cathy—"

"Never use my Christian name again. I swear, I'll have you beaten about the head if you do so."

The old woman had risen, and she swung the cane at Wickham's head. He grabbed it from the air and pulled it away from her. She was left standing unsteadily on her feet. Wickham helped her to sit on the couch and then took her place in the thronelike chair she preferred to use.

He said in a voice that barely managed a pretense of being hurt, "I thought we were better friends than that."

Wickham picked up the box of jewelry that the lady had been sorting through when he entered the room and began to look through it himself. "It hit me in the conscience — a painful place to be struck. I realized I might be hurting the happiness of my childhood companion. Having a conscience is such an expensive proposition. They cost so much to suppress."

"You intend to steal more money from me?"

"Steal? Steal! Take that back. I would never steal from a gentlewoman! I insist you take that insult back."

Lady Catherine spat at him. "You are a foul pestilential toad who is not worthy to sit upon my chair."

"You are quite crude. Spitting, milady? I no longer even want to call you Cathy."

It was there in her eyes. She was thinking of standing and trying to attack him again. Wickham felt a little disappointed when she didn't.

"Get out!"

"Now, I could do that. But I'd have to go to Mr. Darcy and explain my attack of conscience if I did that. I would simply be unable then to later provide you the evidence you want if Darcy bows out. In fact if Darcy gave me a little money, I'd quite willingly swear before Lord Chancey that Georgiana never even agreed to an elopement."

"I already paid you!"

"Yes, but…you paid me. Not my conscience." Wickham spread his hands out widely. "Surely you can see the difference — you've already tasted success. Think of the extra scandal if Darcy abandoned Anne now. You surely would be willing to pay a great sum to avoid that."

"I ought to have you killed. I'll tell everyone you need to be killed."

Wickham rolled his eyes and pulled from the jewelry box a pretty jeweled hair pin. He held it up in the air to catch the early afternoon light streaming through the windows. "If I died, who would provide evidence for your wild story? I must say, I've begun to entertain grave doubts about your sanity — I suspect you'll more likely end up in Bedlam than believed without my help."

"What do you want?"

"A great sum. Much bigger than the last."

Wickham was not going to give a number until he saw if Lady Catherine would name something really ridiculous. He sang the chorus of a bawdy song.

If she tried to lowball him, he'd threaten to go to Darcy. And then if she refused to give him a decent amount, he would go to Darcy. He could get some money out of Darcy for providing testimony that his aunt was insane.

Lady Catherine glared at him. "I'll only give you what I did last time. And you'll need to give me guarantees you won't betray me again. I'll only give you the money once they are married."

She was pretending at some sort of prudence. Wickham rolled his eyes. "I'll give you a signed note when you give me the bill on your bankers. I won't be able to betray you once you have that. And I have the sheet I promised you — a virgin's bloodstains."

Lady Catherine glared at him.

Wickham laughed.

Lady Catherine's eyes went unfocused. "I trust you not."

"You should not trust me. But I am giving you all of the proofs. I'll need twice what you paid me last time for it." Wickham pointed to the small traveling bag he'd brought into the room with him and left by the sofa Lady Catherine now sat on. "It also has a note from Mrs. Young, Georgiana's companion at the time, which swears she saw me take the girl's virginity. Everything you need is here. I only need your money."

The old woman looked greedily from the bag, then to Wickham, and then back at the bag.

Wickham shook his head. "No, no, no. I'll be able to get it and leave long before you have chance to pull the bell. I'll go straight to Darcy with the entire story. Just imagine your nephew's reaction when he knows he is safe. I wonder if he'll simply leave, or try to seek some sort of revenge. I will tell him that you should be evaluated for Bedlam. There are several other aristocratic ladies stuck in that asylum by relatives who do not like them. And you…you've been quite insane of late. I think they might succeed."

She bared her teeth at him.

"Two thousand pounds — and this." Wickham held up the hair pin he'd been playing with and put the jewelry box back onto Lady Catherine's incidental table. "It is quite pretty, and I know just the girl to give it to. I think I can get her to wear it too."

Lady Catherine spat at him again, the small ball of liquid splashing on the red patterned rug. Wickham raised his eyebrows. "Shall it be Bedlam or shall Darcy be your son-in-law?"

The fight left Lady Catherine's eyes; she went to her desk and again pulled out her bank book. Wickham eagerly watched her write out the cheque. He then seized it from her and kissed the paper before carefully having it disappear into his coat. He tossed the riding bag with her proofs to her, and with a laughing bow left the room.

It was rather a pity he'd needed to leave behind those papers, since otherwise he might have tried to come a third time to bilk her. With anyone else even his sense of shame would have rebelled at the prospect of ripping them off a third time, but Lady Catherine… He enjoyed seeing that wild rage at the behavior of a mere steward's son too much to forgo any opportunity. Perhaps he'd find some later chance to bother her, after Darcy and his ugly bride left Rosings.

Pamela was in the servant's stairway hallway behind the door. Wickham winked at her. "Did you hear our conversation and now know all about the secret, secretive business between us?"

She shook her head. "The door is corked so servants can't listen through. It's like Lady Catherine does not trust us." She giggled. "I heard that the mistress was quite displeased with you, those sounds penetrated."

Wickham kissed her, and she let him kiss and paw her for several minutes. A small part of him hoped for a sweaty quick amorous encounter on these stairs or in her room — he would not stay in the proximity of Darcy long enough for a nighttime assignation. Alas, she pushed him away. "Now, now, I am not a very naughty girl."

"Ahh, but you are a little naughty. And so lovely — there is nothing in creation I wish more than to touch you, and feel your bum and your—"

"Stop that!" She laughed. "Do you say that to all the pretty girls?"

"Of course not. Only to the very prettiest."

She blushed at the compliment. "I must go back to my duties."

She started down the stairs; Wickham caught her again and kissed her soundly once more. Then he pulled the hairpin he'd gotten from Lady Catherine out of his pocket. "Please take this."

She shook her head, with a look of offense in her eyes. "I am not that sort of—"

"No, you misunderstand me. I too should return to London quickly. But I want to give you some little token of this interlude."

He kissed her again.

She looked hesitatingly at the hair pin. "It looks very fine, it must be expensive."

Wickham shrugged. "I won it at a game of chance, and I always believe in giving such winnings to the next pretty girl who thoroughly kisses me."

She laughed.

Wickham took her head and carefully rearranged her hair so that the ornament would fit. "There, you look even more beautiful with my mark — promise me you shall wear it. For me."

He looked deep into her eyes as he said that. She went pale and then red and nodded breathlessly. "I shall."

They kissed again. Wickham left the estate with a whistle. It had been a quite pleasant afternoon, even if he would need to use some of the money he still had in his pocket to find a buyable lady in the first town he ran across once he was out of Darcy's range.

It filled his heart with a joyous song to picture Lady Catherine's reaction upon seeing her maid wearing the hair pin he'd gotten from her.


	12. Chapter 12

**AN: The Mistake with Chapter 11 has been corrected, and the real chapter 11 should be there now**

Elizabeth stared into the small mirror above the nursery's fireplace and wondered what to wear. Darcy had convinced Lady Catherine to let her sit at dinner tonight. He had explained to her that he was so _bored_ every night.

It was _Darcy's_ little game. Elizabeth did not expect it would go well. Anne already thought the worst of her, and Lady Catherine was Lady Catherine. But she could not refuse Darcy's eagerness to have her company, even though she knew the whole matter would end in tears.

There was a knock on the door, and Pamela entered.

"Miss Bennet! Miss Bennet! A dinner with Lady Catherine! Treating you like a guest for a night. Aren't you excited? Are you not?"

Pamela hopped with eagerness. Elizabeth paused for a long time. Her feelings were too conflicted for her to enthusiastically agree. "It shall be nice."

"It must not be _such_ a surprise — you _are_ a gentlewoman, and Mr. Darcy is such a friend of yours. He is sweet on you! Anyone can see that. It is a pity he is to marry Miss de Bourgh. I think Mr. Darcy would marry you, if he didn't have to marry her!"

"Pamela, that is gossip and speculation, I hope you have not told anyone—"

"Everyone knows it. Don't be such a goose. Do you think we do not talk among ourselves? We all wish you the best. You are such a good woman. I admire you enormously!"

Pamela's smile was so friendly, and she had no intention to be intrusive.

It made Elizabeth anxious and pale though to think of all the servants gossiping about the flirtation she'd carried on with Mr. Darcy.

 _But if everyone knows, then there is no need to hide._

"I would not — you know I am a woman of honor, and Mr. Darcy is to be married. Neither of us would—"

"Oh!" Pamela blanched. "Do you think any of us think that? Of course I do not! Gentry never have fun, unless it is boring — do not look at me that way! I am no fool; I know when to stop the men. I do."

The girl had a firm set to her lip, glaring back with firm eyes that said that while Elizabeth might be a gentlewoman, _she_ would not be scared of her. Pamela's eyes dared Elizabeth to think that she was anything but the most responsible in her fun with the gentlemen.

Elizabeth quirked a smile. "I have never had much _fun_ , but I can promise you that _some_ gentlewomen do have _fun_. It is why I must be careful about my reputation."

There was a confused silence. Then Pamela exclaimed, "I heard that from someone, but I did not believe it. They said your sister had a child with no husband. But, Miss Bennet, you are a perfect lady. Surely your sister—"

"My sister is quite her own woman." Elizabeth laughed. "You would not expect me to judge Mrs. Shore by you, would you? "

"I am a credit to the family!"

Elizabeth laughed. "You are a credit. But Mrs. Shore is quite boring."

"She is today, but Papa told me that when she was a girl, she wasn't such a square ribbon."

Emma had been listening with an intent expression. She said nibbling on her lip, "You need a ribbon. Lizzy, what shall you wear to the dinner? Your dresses are not nearly so fine as my Mama's were or as Miss de Bourgh's though you shall look far better than her!"

"Oh? Shall I?" Elizabeth grabbed Emma and kissed her.

"Yes!" Pamela exclaimed. "Let me help you to dress! But…do you have any dress worth wearing?"

"I still have one dress. It is out of fashion, some four years old, but I did not sell everything after my uncle's bankruptcy. "

"Let me see it! Let me see it!" Both Emma and Pamela exclaimed at the same time, with equally eager expressions.

They went into Elizabeth's room, which was quite cramped with three people, and Elizabeth pushed both Emma and Pamela to sit on the bed so she would have room to open up the wardrobe and shuffle through it to find the dress in the bottom which had been carefully wrapped and stored.

It was a fine silk gown, with a lavender color and long sleeves — sleeves that were quite out of the fashion of the present year, though they had been in the mode in the year 1811 when Elizabeth had been younger. There were signs of wear about the edges, but they would only be noticed by a critical eye. As she looked it over, Elizabeth realized this was the dress she'd worn the one night she had danced with Darcy, at the ball at Netherfield.

She doubted he would recognize it, but she wondered if some memory of that dance had been why she had chosen this to be the one dress they did not sell.

"Oooooh!" Pamela exclaimed. "That _is_ out of style, but you will look very well in it."

"Just as pretty as Mama's dresses! But it does have that smell from those balls."

Elizabeth laughed at Emma.

The three girls then carefully pulled it out, and they opened the window and hung the dress to air it out.

Pamela clapped her hands. "It is only another two hours before you will be called down! You must begin to prepare if you are to be the prettiest!"

"I do not know that I wish to outshine every lady…"

"Of course you do! And you will!"

Elizabeth grinned at the young maid. She was such a kindly creature, even if her character was uncomfortably similar to Lydia's. "A _small_ part of me would be delighted to outshine other ladies." _It would require a great effort to not outshine Anne_.

Elizabeth's silent petty addition was spoken aloud by Emma. "You are so much prettier than meanie Annie. Mr. Darcy will see you are the prettiest by far!"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and said, more for Pamela's benefit than Emma's, "You shouldn't call your cousin that."

Emma stuck her nose in the air. "You will look much prettier than _ugly_ Annie."

Pamela laughed. "You will! Miss Bennet, let me prepare your face and hair. You must let me. You must! If we start now, I can be finished before Lady Catherine calls me up to help her. "

Elizabeth was happy to be a gentlewoman who was served and dressed by a lady's maid again, even if just for one night. Elizabeth's room just had a small wash basin and mirror. Elizabeth stripped out of her outerclothes and sat on the bed in a chemise while Pamela released Elizabeth's hair so that it fell in long waves past her shoulders. Pamela began to braid it.

"It is a pity we do not have a day so there is no time to put your hair into curls. You would look quite the mode _then_."

Emma watched the procedure with intense interest. "Miss Lizzy doesn't need to look in the mode to be the most beautiful."

"Thank you, dear. I quite agree."

Pamela argued back, "Miss Bennet is so beautiful she should look her best."

"Mama said fashion was quite arbitrary. Miss Lizzy looks very handsome with her hair this way — besides it shall be _Cousin Anne_ who she must look better than. Miss Lizzy could dress in _anything_ and do that."

Pamela giggled. Elizabeth repressed a smile, and she did not argue that the girl should think more nicely about Anne.

After the hair was done, Elizabeth had her face rubbed with rouge to bring out the red in her cheeks, and a bit of cherry juice rubbed onto her lips to give them a richer color. Then they took the dress down. It was not perfect, but both Pamela and Emma after critical sniffs declared that it had aired out sufficiently to wear.

Pamela helped Elizabeth into the dress and tied the stays in the back for her. They went into the nursery for Elizabeth to spin around prettily to show off. Both Pamela and Emma clapped their hands.

Pamela said, "You are the handsomest girl in the county! But something is missing."

The maid frowned at Elizabeth and walked around her in a circle. "Do you have any different ribbons? That color does not go with the dress."

Elizabeth shook her head. Pamela looked at Emma who went to her wardrobe and pulled out her collection. Pamela and Elizabeth looked at Emma's collection. The ribbons were either too short, or in the wrong color as well.

"I know!" Pamela clapped her hands again and bounced up and down. "You can borrow my ribbon. I shall return with it immediately! I wish to show you something else!"

Elizabeth sat in one of the chairs as Pamela ran off. Tonight would be a disaster, like the night Darcy had her and Emma called down to perform. But that disaster had also led to something good. Soon Emma would be safe from Lady Catherine.

Elizabeth stood and looked at the mirror again. She recognized herself, a version of herself she had not seen for at least a year. Elizabeth bounced from foot to foot happily. She imagined some falling out that left Darcy free to marry her, and still allowed Emma to come to Pemberley with them.

The smile from the fantasy gave her rosy cheeks. She looked beautiful tonight.

Then Elizabeth looked at what she'd set up for Emma to entertain herself with. The girl was old enough to be on her own, but she still became lonely easily. Emma had brought out several dolls and she also had a novel Darcy had given her. "You will not be bored, will you?"

"No."

"Is there anything you need me to get you?"

Emma rolled her eyes. "You will only be downstairs."

Elizabeth held her arms out and Emma jumped from where she sat at the signal and embraced Elizabeth. "You look so pretty! I wish I could go downstairs and dress like a gentlewoman already."

Elizabeth realized she suddenly felt no anxiety for the evening. Darcy would be there. He would smile at her, and she would feel happy and alive. She smiled widely at Emma. "What shall you do with your night? Shall you read all of the book again?"

"Only my favorite parts. Mr. Darcy was so kind to give it to me. Don't you wish he wasn't going to marry Miss Anne?"

"I do." Part of Elizabeth hesitated at saying that. If he didn't marry Anne, then Emma would not be sent away to Pemberley with Darcy after the marriage. Even if Darcy was free to marry her, she would not be able leave her post as Emma's guardian while she was under Lady Catherine's control.

Elizabeth's happiness sank away again, as she was once more reminded how it was impossible for them to all be happy.

Pamela reentered with her bouncing smile, brighter than even her usual happiness. She waved the ribbon in a circle. "Here — see, it matches the dress perfectly!"

Instead of going back to the bedroom Elizabeth sat on one of the chairs in the nursery, and Pamela undid the braids once more and then expertly weaved the ribbon through them. When she was done she stood back and exclaimed, "So pretty! Miss Bennet, you are _so_ pretty! And that ribbon agrees perfectly with you!" She crouched and said conspiratorially to Emma, "She'll be the prettiest looking Miss in the room, don't you agree?"

"Miss Lizzy is the prettiest Miss in the whole world!"

Elizabeth blushed. "Well it is good to find I have a _few_ admirers, even if they are not male."

With a conspiratorial wink Pamela said, "You have at least _one_ admirer who is a gentleman."

As Pamela stood she twisted her head so that Elizabeth could see the side. Elizabeth gasped as she saw the jeweled pin.

"I wanted to show you! Don't you think it is the prettiest piece you have ever seen?"

"That, that is an excellent good hairpiece…" Pamela could never have purchased it. It looked like it was worth the wages of a maid in her position for a year.

Pamela angled her head so that Elizabeth could properly admire it. "My secret gentleman friend visited again today, and he gave it to me."

"Did he?"

Pamela hit her on the arm. "Miss Bennet! You don't think I did anything ill to get this!"

Elizabeth carefully studied the other woman's expression. The anxiety in her stomach for her loosened a little. "I believe you. But…gentlemen do not generally give hair pieces with real jewels to a maid on a whim — you ought take it off. Suppose Lady Catherine sees you wearing such an expensive ornament?"

"I shall not. He made me promise to wear it. It was so romantic — I did not want to take it, but he assured me he meant nothing by it, except he wanted me to remember him by it. I will wear it."

"Lady Catherine. You cannot — if a maid were to wear that in front of her, she would be thrown into a rage."

Pamela went pale, and Elizabeth was glad to see she was pounding some sense into her friend. Then she asked, "You talk as though it is valuable? How much do you believe it is worth?"

"That? A jeweler in London would demand ten or fifteen pounds. You probably couldn't sell it for more than half that."

"I _will_ wear it. It is mine, and he gave it to me, and I promised to wear it. I won't cower before Lady Catherine. I'll survive if she dismisses me."

"Pamela! This is a good position. You like working here."

The maid flushed. She looked from the rug to the mirror. "I said I would wear it. I promised. I must at least once."

"Be cautious."

"You are such a worrier. Nothing bad will happen. I'll try to keep Lady Catherine from seeing it."

Pamela pranced from the room, clearly a little offended. Elizabeth could not keep the uneasiness from her stomach while she waited for the dinner bell to call her down.

When it did Elizabeth quietly entered the drawing room. Mr. Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam and Anne were all present.

Mr. Darcy smiled at her, his eyes widening. He stepped forward and bowed deeply, taking her hand to lightly kiss.

She smiled back at him and wondered if he remembered the other time that he had seen her wear this dress. Colonel Fitzwilliam followed behind Darcy and with a smile greeted her also.

Anne had a pinched pucker between her eyebrows as she stared at Elizabeth. When Colonel Fitzwilliam stepped back, Anne frowned and while looking at Elizabeth with her disconcerting stare said in an absent voice, "You are very welcome, Miss Bennet."

Darcy took Elizabeth's arm and led her to the window next to the piano. He stroked his hand along the fine dark wood of the instrument. "Do you remember when you recommended I practice making conversation with strangers? You were playing right here."

His smile was beguiling.

Elizabeth, though, looked back in her memory. "I do not. I am deeply flattered _you_ remember my words. I would ask if you took my advice, but even though _I_ do not remember giving the lesson, it is evident you have been a diligent student. The good results are clear."

The fading afternoon sunlight gleamed on his dark locks, bringing out the rich fine color of his hair. Darcy squared his shoulders and stood taller with his handsome smile. "It is only because you are such a good teacher."

"I know. My vanity attributes _every_ virtue I see in you to my good influence — I am extraordinarily vain after all."

"You mean to imply I have a great many virtues? Since you are the source of my virtues, and I can admit that I have many virtues—"

"Very, very many."

"It shows no pride or vanity on my part to say so, since I am only praising _your_ influence."

"Oooh. That is a well-spoken compliment to both of us." Elizabeth smirked at him.

Darcy smiled back, displaying his white teeth and the dimple in his cheek. He looked boyish and very handsome.

Their _tete a tete_ was interrupted when Lady Catherine entered the room with a light tread. She walked to them, ignoring her daughter and Colonel Fitzwilliam. There was an angry curl to her lip, showing she was in a poor mood.

The lady looked Elizabeth up and down while tapping her fingers against her cheek. Darcy had wished her to be a gentlewoman again for this evening, and in a moment of impulsive bravery, Elizabeth met the old lady's eye, as she would have when she was Miss Elizabeth of Longbourn.

Lady Catherine sneered. "I disapprove. Darcy, she must accept her place. But you will have the management of her and Emma after your marriage. You will see what a problem it creates to let a governess think she is a gentlewoman. I wash my hands of the trouble."

"I am glad that you have chosen to let me make my mistakes without further advice."

Lady Catherine scowled. She studied Elizabeth again. "At least you dressed poorly. That was wise. That dress is worn. Anyone with any taste will see how far from fashion it is. Darcy, you must have Anne call the best dressmakers from London to Pemberley. She has not used them often, being prevented by her ill health, but now she will need to dress for her position as one of the leading women of the country."

Elizabeth glanced at Darcy. His lips were tight, and he made no response.

Drawn by her name, Anne came to stand next to Darcy in that quiet backward manner she had.

Elizabeth's stomach rebelled when she imagined her and Darcy together in a marital embrace. She imagined Darcy fulfilling his duty to create an heir with Anne. Perhaps he would enjoy it since men were supposed to always enjoy the marital act.

Elizabeth shook the thought away. She saw Colonel Fitzwilliam standing across the room in an uncharacteristically quiet manner. He stared at Anne. Elizabeth wondered if he had a similar thought in his head, driven by his love for Anne.

Lady Catherine smiled brightly. "I doubt that Georgiana will dress well for her wedding, or her presentation. She needed the advice of a woman of taste, such as myself. My nephew's wife tries, but she does not have natural taste."

The footman opened the room and announced two outside guests who had arrived together. Mr. Hawdry, the local magistrate, entered bantering lightly with Lady Sanders, a local widow of substantial standing. Mr. Hawdry bowed deeply to Lady Catherine. "You look particularly fine tonight."

"Yes, yes. You always say that." Then Lady Catherine paused, and smiled in an almost hideous manner. "But I will accept it tonight. I _do_ look particularly fine. Tell me about that problem I heard. With the thief. How did you manage it?"

Mr. Hawdry was a bald man with an ample paunch, sausage-like fingers and a florid face. He nodded his head so the bushy sideburns waved. "The stocks. Always the stocks. I fined him too."

"No. No. While useful in so many cases, this man's transgression was a more serious matter. You should have put him in gaol for several weeks. His family would have missed the wages. _Their_ unhappiness would have taught the needed lesson."

"It might encourage more theft, by deepening their poverty."

"Do not think." Lady Catherine rolled her eyes. "It is not the place of gentlemen to _think_ about matters — you must punish severely when a peasant has broken our laws too far. However, you must also be most kind while there is still an opportunity for correcting the character of the man."

"I shall be guided by your wisdom. I only wish I had not yet issued the summary judgment and could still place him in the gaol."

"Let it be a lesson. I do hope you will be cleverer in the future."

The footman opened the door once more, and Mr. Dawson, who had just inherited a substantial estate from his uncle, entered and smiled in a doltish manner. The young man had been trying to impress Lady Catherine, and learn to fit into the neighborhood's society.

"You are late!"

"My apologies. I could not remember whether you had recommended an Obaldeston knot or a waterfall for my cravat. I asked my butler, as I had told him to write down your advice — it had struck me so deeply — but I needed some minutes to tie it into such a fine knot as this."

He gestured proudly at the ugly and poorly tied knot around his neck.

Lady Catherine peered at it. "A decent job of it. But you ought to learn to keep such advice in your head. You cannot always depend on your butler. I depend on no one but myself and my prodigious brain in matters of importance. But a good knot. A gentleman never looks more the fool than when he chooses the wrong knot for his cravat." She pointed at Colonel Fitzwilliam. "There is an example of what you must avoid."

The ill mood Lady Catherine had entered with was evidently only slightly relieved by Mr. Dawson having followed her advice. She scowled at each of them, lingering a long time on Elizabeth. "At last. All here? Dinner at last; it's been an interminable wait. Hawdry! My arm."

Darcy maneuvered so that he had Elizabeth's arm and was seated between her and Anne, while Colonel Fitzwilliam was on the other side of Elizabeth.

However, each time Elizabeth tried to speak to Darcy, Lady Catherine interrupted them to speak to Darcy. It became quite amusing, and Elizabeth spent most of her time talking to Colonel Fitzwilliam. There was a sharp edge to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but Lady Catherine did not mind her talking to him.

When the final course was removed Elizabeth winked at Darcy, who frowned ruefully. She had enjoyed her time a great deal, but she suspected _he_ had not gained the entertainment he had hoped from having her present at the dinner.

The gentlewomen followed Lady Catherine to the drawing room while the gentlemen remained behind. Elizabeth sat to the side and observed them. Lady Catherine held court lecturing and questioning. For her part, Elizabeth was completely ignored by Lady Catherine.

When the gentlemen entered after a short interval, Lady Catherine called out to Mr. Hawdry. "Come here. We must talk more about your work as the JP. You must remember that you are not only a law giver, but a teacher."

Colonel Fitzwilliam sat next to Anne, while Darcy sat next to Elizabeth.

Mr. Hawdry replied, "True, true! The lower orders are children who must be taught their way, for their own good. I hate the deuced idealists who cannot understand."

"Younger sons are _also_ a lower order. I confess I _am_ an idealist. I never understood the necessity of our tragic impoverishment." Colonel Fitzwilliam grinned at everyone. Hawdry and Lady Catherine laughed.

Elizabeth heard the real edge of bitterness to Colonel Fitzwilliam's tone which had not been there years before.

Anne touched him on the knee, and Elizabeth wondered about the cause of the attraction between the two. Maybe they were attached because both were forced into positions they did not like. Despite her poverty, she had always felt the freedom to act in the manner she chose.

Hawdry slapped his hands together. "Good joke. Good joke. My younger brother never understood the matter either."

"For my part," Elizabeth smirked, "I never understood why _sons_ are preferred to daughters. Perhaps they should be equally preferred. Mr. Darcy, could you imagine a world in which Pemberley was equally divided between you and your sister?"

Mr. Hawdry frankly stared at her. Lady Catherine frowned, with an expression that said she did not think Elizabeth should say anything. But once Darcy married Anne and Emma became Darcy's ward, she would no longer be dependent upon Lady Catherine's good will.

Darcy replied, "Perhaps that would be _fair_ to my sister, but within a few generations Pemberley would be so divided as to have completely lost its glory. Someone must be given the entire estate if it is to remain undivided. In my quite biased opinion, choosing the eldest son is a perfectly reasonable way to determine who."

"But never the eldest daughter?" Elizabeth insisted with a smile. "What if Georgiana was your elder, it would still keep the estate together."

"Having a daughter inherit when there is a son? Ridiculous." Mr. Hawdry laughed. "Lady Catherine, I am shocked Miss Bennet is here. You told me how poor a notion it is, allowing governesses to pretend to be part of the family."

"I do not approve. But Darcy begged so kindly; he and Miss Bennet are old acquaintances. It is bad for discipline. Once in employment, they must school themselves to accept subordination. But my nephew insists. He insists, and I cannot stop him. He shall have her dine with Anne and himself in Pemberley, I am quite sure. Then he shall learn. He is such a boy; he only can learn by harsh experience."

Hawdry frowned at Darcy. "Mr. Darcy, it is not my place to advise you—"

"Then do not."

"Your aunt is a fountain of wisdom. My position as a magistrate would be intolerable without her aid and advice. She wishes the greatest happiness for all in her purview, and—"

"Mr. Hawdry," Darcy sharply snapped, "it is _not_ your place to advise me."

"Well, I'll say. I will say. It is quite irregular to treat me in that way. I am only attempting to be kind."

Darcy turned to Elizabeth, ignoring Hawdry. "We had been speaking in the other room about Wellington's management as prime minister — what do _you_ think on the topic?"

Amused by how Darcy had treated the self-important man who had attached himself to Lady Catherine, Elizabeth replied with a lilt, "But I am a simple woman."

"Nevertheless, your advice has _always_ proven of value, quite unlike that of some other women I know."

Elizabeth replied to Darcy's question about the Iron Duke with some nonsense she had read in a newspaper recently. She simply enjoyed the fun of conversing with him, dressed like this, and being served as a gentlewoman again.

After a few minutes, Pamela brought in the ices and in a workmanlike manner quickly distributed the tall cups filled with the sherbets. She caught Elizabeth's eye and smiled when she delivered one to Elizabeth. The hairpiece was still there. Elizabeth frowned as she looked at it, anxious.

When she served Lady Catherine and Anne, Pamela kept the side of her head away from Lady Catherine, showing a _little_ prudence.

With the tray empty now, the maid curtsied and turned to walk away. The tightness in Elizabeth's stomach released. Hopefully, she could convince Pamela to hide the jewelry away while working next time.

"Stop!" Anne stood up from the table and grabbed Pamela's hair roughly to pull her head down so she could examine it. "That hairpin! That! That is one of my mother's!"

"No, no." Pamela frantically shook her head, trying to pull away from Anne's grasp. She looked like a cow desperately trying to escape from the butchers. "A gift! It was a gift."

"A gift? You made yourself a gift of my mother's jewelry?" Anne roughly pulled the hairpin out of the girl's braid, making Pamela's curls fall in a wild fan. Without letting go of Pamela's hair, she held it up to examine closer. "Mother, this is your hair piece, is it not?"

Elizabeth looked at Lady Catherine, and there was something terrifyingly mad in the gleam of her eyes as the dimming sun lit her in a reddish beam. "Yes. Yes. It is _mine_."

Anne shrieked jerking harshly at the hair. "Thief! You stole my mother's jewels."

Pamela jerked herself away, leaving strands of her hair in Anne's grip. "It was a gift! I swear!"

"Who gave it to you?"

Pamela looked at Lady Catherine. She went pale. "Madam, you know who…"

"I do not. You are dismissed for this theft."

"It was that gentleman!" Pamela looked pleadingly at her mistress. "The one who visited you today."

"There was _no_ gentleman. For your theft, I would have simply dismissed you, but for your lies, I will have you prosecuted. Grab her! Grab her!"

Pamela did not even struggle as one of the footmen who'd gathered to watch the drama took her arms and forced her to sit in the chair.

Lady Catherine shouted, "Hawdry! Have your bailiff called."

"Yes, Madam." The man stood ponderously and looked at the footman who wasn't holding Pamela down in the chair. "Paper, now. Then have someone run off to Mr. Joseph."

Darcy stood. "There is no need for such action. Nothing has been lost."

"She stole! She stole! She stole! I will have her punished! Punished! Punished!" Lady Catherine stabbed her finger towards the trembling girl. "Tie her up. A rope! _Tie her up_. She'll try to escape."

Elizabeth spoke, "I believe there must have been some gentleman. Pamela has spoken about her friend several times. Perhaps he was the thief."

Lady Catherine turned to her with a raging flame in her eyes. "You will not speak! You have no permission! None! I give you too much leeway. There was no gentleman! None!"

Elizabeth swallowed, frightened by the look in Lady Catherine's eye. Elizabeth would speak if it would help Pamela. But Pamela would be dismissed no matter what was said now.

"I would ask," Mr. Darcy spoke in a calm voice, but his eyes were sharp, "I ask as a personal favor, that you simply dismiss the girl. That would be sufficient punishment. There is no need for a prosecution."

"The Darcy line has no title. It should not beg personal favors from _us_. I am a Fitzwilliam! I am the widow of Sir Lewis de Bourgh! You should grovel before me. I am above you! Do not speak as though your vast wealth matters. I swore I'd bring you to heel, and I will. Hawdry, to prison! Commit her to prison until the time for the assizes."

"The assizes?" Hawdry echoed in confusion. "There is no need for that. I can issue a summary punishment immediately and—"

"Hanging! The assizes. I want her hanged! Hang her! Hang her!"

Darcy said sharply, "Madam, it is a quite strange theft, it will not be believed by the jury, so there is no value in bringing charges — a thief who wears the jewels in front of their original owner? I am entirely convinced that a _gentleman_ gave her them, and that the maid is blameless."

"Have her hanged for it! Grand larceny! That pin is worth at least a hundred pounds!"

"Lady Catherine." Darcy spoke in a pleading voice. "I am to be your son, I beg you not to make such charges. You will expose yourself to derision and — do you not care for your soul? I believe you _know_ she is entirely innocent of theft. It would be right to dismiss her for accepting such a gift from a gentleman, but—"

"Hanging! I'll only accept hanging! She must learn her place!"

Spittle flew from the mouth of Lady Catherine. Darcy's mouth had a grim line. "If you do not let her go, I shall personally investigate the truth of her claims about a gentleman."

"You can't stop me! You can't! You won't do that! You know what will happen!"

"Madam, I believe you have… You go too far. This is another matter in which I will not bend. I beg you, let the girl go."

"No."

Darcy stared at Lady Catherine for a long time. His noble face slowly hardened. "Then I know what I must do. I shall not allow this injustice to occur."

He sat calmly down and began to quietly eat the melting sherbet.

Darcy's calmness settled Elizabeth, and while she felt frightened still, the fast beating of her heart slowed. He would not let Lady Catherine have poor Pamela hanged. It amazed Elizabeth that Darcy could eat the sherbet at such a time as this. Her stomach felt so awful that it was like she would never be able to eat again.

The footmen had tied Pamela's hands to the arms of a chair, and one continued to stand over her, guarding her at Lady Catherine's demand. The girl's breast went up and down with her rapid panting. Elizabeth saw the wild fear in her eyes at the idea she might be hanged.

Elizabeth sat next her and took Pamela's hand and squeezed it. Elizabeth leaned her head to the girl's. "This will be resolved. Darcy is —"

"I was such a fool!" Pamela exclaimed. "He just wanted to cause trouble, and—"

"Remove yourself from my prisoner!"

Elizabeth looked at Lady Catherine and a desperate desire to defy her began to build. Lady Catherine _was_ mad. "She is a fellow creature and in distress."

"Now! Now! Now! Or else I'll dismiss you. You know that none else will hire you. Never! Never! Never! Obey me."

Elizabeth almost defied Lady Catherine. But she feared the consequences for Emma. The girl was still under Lady Catherine's control. She couldn't abandon Emma for anything. Elizabeth squeezed Pamela's hand one last time, and she felt deeply guilty when she sat at the heavy dining table again.

She could not meet anyone's eyes, and her face was red with shame.

Was Darcy was looking at her? Did he think she'd just behaved as a coward?

No one said anything. The minutes continued. Still no one spoke. There was no casual conversation. An extra footman entered the room, curiously looked around, and then gathered the melted ices.

A few minutes later the bailiff arrived.

After a consultation with Mr. Hawdry, Mr. Joseph took Pamela and led her out of the house. They would take her to the local gaol to await trial when the circuit court came back to Kent in a few weeks.

Mr. Hawdry looked at Lady Catherine and exclaimed, "Servants stealing! It's a curse. They all do it. We shall make an example of this one. Deuced lucky that she was caught red handed. You should give all your goods a looking over to ensure that nothing else has been taken."

"Everything will be looked over." Lady Catherine's grim reply followed.

Darcy stood. "Mr. Hawdry, it is exceedingly unlikely that the girl in question stole anything at all. Instead she has been the victim of a prank played on Lady Catherine by a visitor. Do you wish to place your reputation at risk as well as my aunt's by supporting her in this?"

"What do you mean?" Mr. Hawdry harrumphed. "I saw what happened. Lady Catherine, you must make a statement. If Mr. Darcy wishes to make trouble, I must take down the evidence."

"She had my hair piece! Is any additional evidence needed?"

"I suppose not." He looked at Darcy and pulled at his sideburns.

Darcy said, "She obviously did not know it was Lady Catherine's. Otherwise she would never have worn it while performing her duties."

Hawdry pulled at his sideburn. "But she had no other way of getting it."

"The gentleman who she claims gave it to her perhaps stole it. Or perhaps he received it as a gift from Lady Catherine."

"There was _no_ gentleman! None! I'll never forget it if you do not hang her. _Never_."

Hawdry looked between the two. "I trust you, my ladyship. We'll see justice done." Hawdry walked to the table. "May I examine the piece?"

He held it up, turning it every way. "A maid with such an item! This is prettier than what my wife used to wear. No, no, no! — Damnation! Not in my county. No. Mr. Darcy, she was having a joke on her mistress before selling the piece."

"That is…unlikely." Darcy's lips tightened. "I suspect my aunt has reasons which would lead her to lie about the existence of this gentleman visitor. If you intend to seek _justice,_ you will look into that possibility."

"What are you accusing Lady Catherine of? That slur — that she would entertain gentlemen in hiding — I'd challenge you. I swear, I'd put a bullet through you if you weren't her nephew. Lady Catherine, I must be off. I'll handle it exactly as you told me to."

He left the room, and the heavy oaken door pounded shut, with a heavy sound like a death knell.


	13. Chapter 13

Darcy focused on his plans. The frustration and anger made him wish to argue with Mr. Hawdry, but the magistrate was determined to support Lady Catherine.

Darcy looked at Elizabeth.

Her face was ashen in the candlelight. He knew Elizabeth had become friends with the servant, and he had seen how she'd nearly argued with Lady Catherine. If it had simply been a matter of protecting her position, he believed Elizabeth would have resigned. He had never felt prouder of her, or more torn.

He loved her. He had never ceased to love her. For a time the fire of his love had burned low enough that he could pretend the flame was gone. But it had always survived. What could he do? He could not carry through with his plan to marry Anne.

Not even to protect Georgiana could he tie himself closer to this petty murderous tyrant.

After the girl was taken away, Darcy stood to leave the table. He would go to the gaol and talk to the maid. At the least he would pay for a defense counsel from London, and he wished to know. He suspected the gentleman visitor was Wickham. If he brought Wickham here to testify to his seeing Lady Catherine, perhaps with some proof that she'd paid him off, it would conclusively prove that the maid had not stolen the hairpiece.

Darcy did not want to believe that a jury would ever convict upon such slender evidence as Lady Catherine could present. At least not if the holes in her assertions were clearly pointed out. But jurors were drawn from amongst men of property in the district, all of whom might need to fear Lady Catherine's wrath. The assizes were only in two weeks. He did not have a great deal of time in which to prove the girl's innocence.

Darcy signaled to a footman. "Bring me some paper. Immediately." He would write a letter to his solicitor in London begging him to find the best defense counsel available, then he would go to the gaol.

Lady Catherine stood and exclaimed, "Darcy!"

Darcy raised his eyes and looked at her impassively.

"Never challenge me again!" She turned away and walked from the room.

Darcy internally shrugged. He was done with her, and she would find that soon enough.

Attempted murder was too much. There was a distinct feeling of happiness suffusing Darcy. He should feel guilty that he would be forced to let his aunt hurt his sister. But now that he would no longer marry Anne, he could marry Elizabeth. He felt free and happy.

"What a disgusting creature." Anne's voice broke Darcy's reverie, and he looked at her trying to figure out what she was referring to.

"That girl pranced into here wearing a piece of jewelry like that. She should have _known_ that—"

"She didn't steal it."

Anne blinked at Darcy. "Of course not. Your argument made that clear. I am not a fool. I wonder what about this gentleman made Mother so angry. But what a terrible servant. There should be laws about them wearing jewels."

Darcy looked at her in disgust and glanced at Richard, once more confused by how his cousin found Anne attractive.

Richard poured himself a deep glass of the wine on the table and drank it in several quick swallows. He laughed. "It certainly turned out to be a poor adornment. Hahaha. They won't convict her for it. Your mother will be shown a fool. I've served on juries before. We were too aware of our responsibility to make such a mistake."

"Yes, Mother is wrong. She is always wrong. I hope she isn't proven such a fool as you say, but the girl was even more foolish."

Darcy said, "The girl will be hanged if the claim of such a large theft is proven. I must prove your mother a fool."

"This is why such servants are usually dismissed. It is an ugly business. Really, you shall make things difficult, and Mother will be angry—"

"Anne, I am not going to marry you."

She turned pale. "But…you must…"

"I will not. I am done. This is too far."

"I beg you — Mother will be angry. Even if you have decided to let her hurt you however she threatened to, I don't want to… She will be so angry. I can't…"

"She is attempting to murder a young woman."

"Why do you care about her? She is just a servant. Are you sweet on her too, in addition to Miss Bennet?"

Richard patted Anne on the elbow. "What makes you so scared of her?"

"Just don't. Don't! I don't want to see her so angry. I wish she would die. But she won't. Not on her own."

Darcy was disgusted by Anne. She was weak and cowardly, and hardly behaving as an adult. He stood up to leave the room. He'd written his letter, and he needed to go to the gaol. He turned to Elizabeth, who was not smiling in the way he had hoped, but her eyes were so deep and intent on him.

"Wait, Darcy," Richard called out.

With an attentive look Darcy turned towards his cousin.

"Don't tell Lady Catherine yet. Something might come up to make things simpler. We want to avoid the scandal, and…" Richard gestured towards Anne. "I'll tell her that you are demanding a delay. Or something of that sort. Or we have a fake priest perform the ceremony so it is not valid. But don't be hasty."

"Why?"

Richard looked hurt. "I care about Georgie too. Even if I don't think you should go so far to protect her, I want her to be protected. Once she is safely married and everyone is away from Rosings, we can tell Lady Catherine about the trick we played on her. You just do one thing incorrectly, and the ceremony is invalid. So it is easy."

"I am not — I…must think about this." Darcy felt like it was a devil's offer. Protect Georgiana, _and_ not marry Anne. He had a minute before hardened himself to hurt his sister, and now…

Darcy shook his head. "Our aunt will not stay silent when she finds out about the ruse. She would say everything simply for revenge."

"Georgiana would already be married."

"It would be even worse for her if the story came to his ears after they were married. No, I will not play that game." Darcy paced around the side of the dining room. He wished Elizabeth would say something. "Elizabeth, what do you think I ought to do?"

Her face was white. "You should not… I do not know. But… Oh God! Do not ask me!"

Anxiety came back into his nerves. "I must go to London tomorrow. Richard, I believe we both are acquainted with the gentleman visitor. I will attempt to find him, and I will speak with my lawyers and Georgiana. She must be warned of what Lady Catherine may say, even if we delay her doing so until after the marriage."

"Wickham! Of course. But…"

"I will not tell Lady Catherine that I have ended the engagement before I leave. While I am away I will consider at my leisure whether to participate in some deception. But I do not believe I will. It would be dishonorable, and a matter of such disguise that it would be my abhorrence. You shall have two or three days' reprieve. I am now off to the gaol to speak with the poor girl."

Richard shook his head and said bitterly, "You would have made a terrible soldier. A deuced awful soldier. It is good you were born the obscenely rich son who didn't need to dirty himself with real matters."

Darcy tightened his jaw. Richard was not the enemy. Lady Catherine was the enemy.

Darcy arrived back at Rosings late that night. He was hungry and tired. It was much too late in the night for him to seek Elizabeth out. Darcy wanted to leave early the next morning, but he also needed to talk to Elizabeth before he left.

He went to the kitchen to see what food there was to steal. Mrs. Shore was angrily speaking while Elizabeth and one of the maidservants listened.

Elizabeth jumped up. "What news? Is Pamela well?"

"Yes." He looked at her and smiled, despite how tired he was.

She smiled back, but then turned away.

Darcy said to the cook, "Mrs. Shore, she told me to give you a message. She is sorry for the trouble she has caused, knows you were right all along, and she promises to never do anything of the sort again. I think I convinced her they won't hang her for it."

"Will they?" There was a sharp angry challenge in the cook's voice.

Darcy said steadily, "The laws of England protect the innocent. Your niece is innocent."

"The laws of England protect the _rich_."

"She has the enmity of Lady Catherine, but I swear to use every method and unfairness in the system I can find to protect her. I am acquainted with the gentleman who gave her the hairpin, and I intend to find him and make him testify to the truth of what happened."

"Of course you know him. All deceptive gentlemen hang together." Darcy felt rather offended, but as his aunt was trying to murder the woman's niece in a fit of pique, he let it pass.

"Is he…" Elizabeth hesitated and spoke cautiously. "How Pamela described him reminded me of the gentleman who seduced my sister."

Darcy smiled at Elizabeth's attempt to avoid saying the name. "It was Mr. Wickham. Miss Bennet, might I…I would like to speak to you."

She nodded. A little somberly. It made Darcy worried. What was she thinking? Surely she must love him now. Surely she couldn't refuse him again.

They walked out into the garden next to the kitchen. The light of the full moon lit up Elizabeth with a soft pale glow, and her face looked white and the curve of her eyebrows was stark and bold. She wasn't wearing gloves. Her hands looked small, and Darcy wanted to take one and caress it between his fingers.

He did.

She did not resist him when he took her hand. But she also did not look into his eyes. Darcy wanted to speak, but his heart raced, there was a lump in his throat, and he could not make his voice work.

He believed she loved him. She must love him now. She had let him hold her hand, but her expression was not encouraging. Of course she was still somber because of concern for Pamela.

Darcy swallowed and took a deep breath. "Elizabeth, I… Is it possible? We have spent so much time talking and… Let me speak plainly. I love you, I always have loved you. My affections and wishes have not changed since that evening here so many years before. They can never change, but one word from you will silence me forever on this subject."

Elizabeth did not look up during this speech, and in the moonlight Darcy could not tell if she had flushed, but she squeezed the hand he was holding tightly. She did not say anything.

Darcy pressed their fingers tighter together. "Please, Elizabeth, say something."

She was crying.

Darcy wiped his fingers tenderly over her cheeks. Elizabeth leaned up on her toes and kissed him.

She put her hand around his neck and pressed her body against his, and she pressed her lips against his with a frantic, untutored desperation.

Darcy held her head and her hips and kept her close as they kissed. But rather than happiness, he felt anxiety. Something about how she kissed him was wrong. He felt so scared. As though she was saying "goodbye", rather than "I will."

Darcy looked into Elizabeth's eyes. There were tears in them. The full moon glinted off the wetness on her cheeks.

She shook her head. "I can't. Not now. I can't marry you."

"Elizabeth! I…" It felt as though a pit had opened under Darcy. He wanted to be swallowed up by it. Darcy closed his eyes. He whispered, "If you do not love me, it is…no matter. I understand. I am still —"

"I do love you! I love you desperately. There is nothing I wish more than to marry you. But I _can't_ leave Emma."

Darcy began to breathe again. He understood the problem now.

"Do not hate me. I deserve it if you do. But Emma needs me, and she has no one else."

"I could never hate you."

"If ever I can…but I need to be here for Emma. You have seen how Lady Catherine treats her — and since you will not marry Anne, she will never let you have her. I must stay here with Emma."

"I had not thought about how…but I see now. It is such a tangled mess. But…"

"Do not tell me to abandon her! I love Emma as though she were my own daughter, and she loves me as dearly."

"She is Lady Catherine's ward." Darcy spoke softly and he placed a hand on Elizabeth's arm. "Whatever you feel, whatever is _right_ , you have no legal tie to her."

"I know! I know that horrible, vicious woman can tear us apart. But while I can stay near Emma, I must."

"You have a close affection for her. Perhaps a new governess would care for her in the same way."

"No. Not a woman Lady Catherine hired to replace me. And even if I thought so… I will not abandon Emma. Forgive me…it is not that I do not love you. Please believe me. But though it breaks my heart I cannot leave."

Darcy looked at Elizabeth. Her lips trembled. He pulled her in tighter to embrace her. He loved her so.

This would leave her under Lady Catherine's power. Worse, Lady Catherine was erratic. She knew Darcy had an affection for Emma and Elizabeth, and she might seek to gain revenge against Emma. The worst that Lady Catherine could do to Elizabeth was to dismiss her, and then she would be free of her charge and able to marry him.

If he just waited, he could still have Elizabeth, and perhaps soon…

Darcy kissed Elizabeth's forehead. "Do you wish… I fear what Lady Catherine might do to Emma. She knows I was attached to her. Ought I… Do you think…" Darcy swallowed again. He was not sure what he would do if Elizabeth answered yes. "Do you wish me to marry Anne? To protect Emma."

Elizabeth clapped her hand over her mouth and shook her head wordlessly. She took his hand and kissed it. "No, no. Not that. I… Lady Catherine will calm eventually. And Emma, she will grow and eventually become independent of Lady Catherine. But marrying Anne. No, no. You should never marry one you do not like. No, not that."

"Elizabeth, I love you. When that day comes… I will wait until your duty to Emma is done, and I will be there to marry you."

Tears were falling down Elizabeth's cheeks. She kissed him again. More sweetly this time, and Darcy clutched her against him, holding her tight in his arms.

"Do not be silly." She said, "It will be many years until my duty is done. I do not expect you to wait. Be reasonable."

"I do not want to be reasonable. I want you."

They kissed again. Darcy held her against him. She squeezed her arms tightly around him, and Elizabeth's breasts and stomach and legs all pressed into his body. He wanted to whisper into her ear and beg her to marry him immediately. But he did not.


	14. Chapter 14

"Is that Miss Bennet? Is it? Is it?"

Lady Catherine stood in the middle of her sitting room in a long dressing gown that she had left open displaying the voluminous folds of her nightdress. Strands of hair fell down her forehead and half the bun of her hair had been pulled out and now stuck in all directions. The opening of her dress let Elizabeth see the age marks along her breasts and the sagging wrinkles which normally were hidden by her stays and rouge.

She flapped a piece of paper in front of Elizabeth's face. "Do you know about this! Do you! He's gone!"

Elizabeth backed up apprehensively. Darcy was gone to London, and now only she was here to protect Emma from Lady Catherine. And when he came back, Lady Catherine would be told that he would not marry Anne, and every matter would become worse.

"I do not know." Elizabeth apprehensively backed away.

Lady Catherine shouted, "Gone to London! London! He plans to betray me! I ordered him to stay! I _ordered_ him to not leave till the wedding." She stuck the paper in front of her face and read out in a sarcastic voice, " _Gone to London on business_. On business! Business! As though such a flimsy excuse will fool me. He plans to betray me! To find _my_ source, and suborn the filthy betraying creature with money!"

"Mr. Darcy told me of a plan to go to London, but he shall return quickly."

"Quickly? He won't return at all. He has decided to betray me. To betray Anne. To betray us all. He has no honour. He has no prudence. He is nothing but a despicable creature, like his sister! I'll force him to marry my daughter, no matter how he squirms! I have the proofs! I have them! I will show them!"

Elizabeth nodded her head, making a furious pretense of agreement. She was really frightened. If Lady Catherine remembered that Darcy cared for her and Emma… Elizabeth felt like a mouse waiting for a cat to pounce.

Lady Catherine pumped her fist. "I shall beat him. I shall. I shall beat him yet. But you! Miss Bennet, I have never seen you look so subservient. It is in your eyes! You know you depend upon me. At last! I am most pleased with you at last. Go! — Do not forget, _mine_! You are _mine_! My employee, my dependent, my servant! Mine! You owe _me_ gratitude. Not Darcy! Remember your place. Stay subservient."

Elizabeth curtsied deeply, not looking directly at Lady Catherine, intentionally exaggerating the real fear she felt in her voice and manner. "Madam, I thank you. I swear, I shall be worthy of your condescension. I… I know Darcy shall not protect me."

She backed away.

"Wait. For a little, I thought you were a whore like your sister. That you had become Darcy's whore. It would not have surprised me greatly. I had believed better about you. I am glad I was right." She waved her hand dismissively, letting the sides of her dressing robe flap about. "Go, go. I am done with you."

Elizabeth bowed again. And she left the room, walking backwards, unable to stop keeping an eye on Lady Catherine, like a woman being presented to the queen.

Elizabeth then hurried silently down the hallway away from Lady Catherine's room. She opened the door to the nursery and closed it immediately, as though that provided safety. She leaned her head against the door.

Her heart raced and the grief she felt because she had refused Darcy again was subsumed by fear of the old woman. It had been so easy to believe that she could stay here and protect Emma last night. But she was no longer sure.

 _You have no legal tie to her_.

The memory of Darcy's words cut her. She could only stay near Emma; she could not protect her. Nobody could. Lady Catherine was her legal guardian.

Emma walked up behind Elizabeth and touched her softly. "What is happening? What did Lady Catherine want?"

"Lady Catherine is raging. We must be very careful today."

"Because Mr. Darcy is gone to London? But he will be back."

"Yes," Elizabeth replied somberly. "He will be back in a day or so."

"Then why is Lady Catherine angry? Why does she even care? He has agreed to marry Miss Anne."

Elizabeth took Emma in her arms and squeezed her. She needed to prepare the girl so that she understood when Darcy left Rosings permanently without them. "Lady Catherine is worried that Mr. Darcy does not want to marry Miss Anne, and that he will change his mind."

"Oh." Emma stamped her foot. "I hope he doesn't marry her. Mr. Darcy is much too nice for meanie Annie."

Elizabeth smiled sadly. "He is."

"I wish…I wish he was marrying you instead of meanie Annie, and we would all go together to that estate that Mr. Darcy likes so much. Pemberley, and we would be like a family."

"I wish that too." Elizabeth squeezed Emma against her. "I wish that too."

"Why are you crying?"

"Because I am sad."

"You don't want Mr. Darcy to marry Anne either, do you?"

"No, sweetheart. I do not."

"Maybe he won't. And then you could marry him."

"But I would then have to leave you here. And I would never do that."

"Oh." Emma hadn't thought about that before, apparently. "But Darcy is taking me to Pemberley. Remember."

The little girl smiled confidently.

Elizabeth felt tears start from her eyes. She could not explain to Emma what would happen after Darcy returned. "Oh, yes. He is."


	15. Chapter 15

Darcy was an experienced rider, and his horse was well trained. He simply directed it along the right road, and it kept a steady pace.

 _Clop, clop, clop_.

The road to London was crowded with travelers. Young peasants walking back and forth, the occasional post carriage dragged by a team of two, once or twice some aristocrat racing past on an unsteady chariot with a team of four.

The air warmed as the hours passed, and Darcy had to stop several times to let his horse drink and rest, and to refresh himself. It was a beautiful sky with big white fluffy clouds sitting in a span of perfect blue. The trees around him were green, and there was a warm buzz of life everywhere, and he could not stop smiling.

Everything was still horrible.

Elizabeth had kissed him.

Darcy smiled.

 _Damn_ Lady Catherine. She was mad. _Hang her. Hang her._

The horse felt Darcy's tension and entered a faster trot. Darcy tried to breathe slowly to calm himself and he reined the horse in, since the road was still long and too crowded to go quickly.

His aunt. His mother's sister. A human evil.

She could not be allowed to win. Giving her any victory was wrong. She had become a rabid dog, and he was family. It was his responsibility to defeat her. He needed to rescue Emma, and thus Elizabeth from her grasp, he needed to make it possible for Anne and Richard to marry, and he needed to protect Georgiana.

Darcy snorted. While he was at it, he could fly to the moon and retrieve some cheese from the surface.

But maybe _this_ wasn't impossible. Richard's idea had seemed completely wrong the previous day, but now it began to grow on him. It would be a scandal, and a mockery of church and law. But if he and Anne pretended to marry, then they could all leave Rosings together and then once they were away from Rosings, the deceit could be announced and established. Richard and Anne could marry, and as Lady Catherine would already have given up her position as Emma's guardian she would be able to do nothing.

If he and Elizabeth married _first_ , any future marriage would be invalid. Of course then Lady Catherine would prosecute him for bigamy. But Darcy didn't _think_ the punishment would be particularly intolerable. He could ask his lawyer. Or they could find a different way to invalidate the marriage. One that was not illegal and quite so scandalous.

No matter what he did, Georgiana would still be exposed to Lady Catherine's revenge.

As the day reached noon, the sun began to beat down, and the sweat poured down Darcy's back. The houses and hamlets grew thicker. The road changed to cobblestones from the dirt and gravel of the turnpike. He'd reached London already. He smelled the thick fumes from the cesspits where the nightsoil was being cooked by the summer heat.

The traffic was thick and roiling. Hordes of people rushed from place to place, shouting and paying little heed. Pedestrians darted across the street at the slightest opening between wagons and horses, and Darcy had to sharply pull up to keep from trampling a person. The wagoneer behind him shouted in disgust.

Darcy's stomach writhed with anxiety as he reached the tall marble and brick façade of his London townhouse. Georgiana and her companion Mrs. Annesley were there, preparing for the wedding to Chancey in another few weeks.

Before he searched out Wickham, he needed to tell Georgiana about Lady Catherine's threats. He thought of how he'd hurt when Elizabeth had refused him. And now he needed to put his sister through the loss of a lover. He felt deep down certain that he would find a way to rescue Emma and Elizabeth from Lady Catherine's grasp.

He did not see how he could protect his sister.

Darcy left his horse in the stables hired by his family a block from the house, and then he walked the rest of the way to the door. The ringer on the door was up, showing that Georgiana was not accepting visitors today. Darcy hoped she was still present at the house at least. Speaking to her would be a deeply unpleasant business, and he did not wish to delay it.

He unlocked the door with his key and entered quietly.

The butler came out of the servant's room to greet him. "Mr. Darcy! We had no idea. Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials, sir! Why are you back so sudden?"

"Is my sister in?"

"She is in the breakfast room working on her correspondence. She will be delighted to see you. The party was to travel to Rosings for your wedding next week."

Darcy nodded thanks and quickly walked to the breakfast room. His stomach begged him to not go forward, but he only used that emotion to propel himself to open the door.

Georgiana looked up from where she was seated next to Mrs. Annesley writing, and her face turned into a giant smile. Darcy's eyes teared up when she threw her arms around him and hugged him fiercely.

"What do you do here! I am so glad to see you! Is Anne with you? You sent so few letters! I hardly know what to think. Tell me how it all happened. This has been so unexpected!"

"Georgie. Georgie…I..." Darcy held his sister out at arm's length, and her smile faded away as she caught his expression.

"What is it? Something is wrong? I can see it. Just tell me."

Darcy stood straighter. "There is a matter I must speak to you about." He turned to Georgiana's companion, "Mrs. Annesley, I am very pleased to see you, but—"

The woman rose and curtsied. "I understand. I do hope it is nothing too serious."

Darcy made no reply to that, and she left the room.

Georgiana looked at him expectantly with a worried expression.

"I am not — I've decided I will not marry Anne."

"Oh." Georgiana nodded slowly with a confused expression. "What did she do — it shall be talked about a great deal — you would not do this lightly."

"That…that is not what is important." Darcy swallowed. "I never wished to marry her at all…"

"You didn't!" Georgiana shook her head. "I am not surprised. I _knew_ something strange was occurring. But why…"

"Forgive me, Georgie."

"What is it? Tell me."

"She knows about Wickham. Lady Catherine. When she learns I will not marry Anne, she will tell Lord Chancey, and everyone else in society about it. Except she will tell a far more vicious and lurid version than the truth."

Georgiana stiffened and pulled away a little. Darcy could not look at his sister. The silence hung between them for a long time.

At last she said in a sharp, irritated tone, one that he'd never heard from her before, "Why didn't you tell _me_ when our aunt threatened you with this?"

"I am still your guardian. It is my duty to protect you, and I am failing. I can't—"

"You haven't failed at all," she snapped.

"When Lord Chancey finds out—"

"Fitzwilliam! Do you really believe I would have accepted his proposal without first telling him the entire story?"

Oh.

Georgiana hit him on the chest. "You...you…you… _featherwit_. Andrew is right. I _do_ think much better of you than you deserve. Clodpole. I could never marry Andrew without telling him that bit of my past. A rather minor and silly bit of past as Wickham never had the interest and opportunity to give me more than a small kiss."

Darcy coughed. "I see."

"Why did you not tell me this before?" She put her hands on her hips and glared with narrowed eyes.

She was no longer the helplessly shy girl he remembered who had been unable to see him as anything but perfect.

"I didn't want… You would feel guilty if you knew I planned to marry Anne to protect you."

The way Georgiana continued to glare at him showed that was _not_ in her opinion a good enough excuse.

"It is my duty to protect you."

"Did you never _consider_ talking to Andrew yourself?"

"Georgie…this shall be a serious scandal. Everyone will talk, and she will have manufactured evidence for what she claims, and—"

"If Andrew doesn't care for me enough to stand next to me through such a crisis, I would far rather know before the wedding."

Darcy could not disagree with _that_.

"So no more of this." Georgiana stamped her foot. "You are not to marry meanie Annie—"

"What!"

Georgiana giggled. "That's what cousin Frederica and I called her when we played during visits to Rosings as a child."

"You are an adult now. And it was quite inappropriate then." Darcy giggled. "Lady Catherine's young ward, a relation of her husband's, also calls her that."

"Richard told me that she'd taken in a quite wild little girl."

"No, no, Emma is a darling… I played with her a great deal. And with…" Darcy trailed off, preparing to bring up Elizabeth.

"You ignored your bethrothed and spent your time playing with a child? I pity _Cousin Anne_ a little for her choice of suitors. Will she be devastated?"

"Did you know Anne and Richard are in love, but Anne will never do anything to oppose her mother's wishes?"

Georgiana gasped and put her hands to her mouth. "No! Richard and meanie Annie! I mean Cousin Anne — you still planned to marry her?"

"I had not known when I asked her to marry me. Even if I had… Georgie, you are right, I should have spoken to Chancey. But the matter seemed full of disaster; things went quickly—"

"You need to inform him about the scandal you shall create by jilting your cousin. And about Lady Catherine's likely rants."

Georgiana sat down with a frown. "If she comes to town, and if she says all of that to everyone — I can imagine what she might say if she is angry — it will be a great scandal. Everyone will stare at me and Andrew. They'll talk about it for months. Some people will believe everything horrible that Aunt Catherine says and…"

Darcy sat down and took her small hand. Part of him was almost glad to see her actually distressed and taking the situation a _little_ like he'd expected. "I should have protected you, and I feel my guilt—"

"Dear God!" She rolled her eyes towards the ceiling and pushed him away. She shook her head in disgust. "None of _that_! Do you _enjoy_ finding opportunities to feel guilty?"

Did he? His life was such a tangle now that he would feel guilty about something no matter what.

Georgiana exclaimed, "I will be with Andrew, and it will all be well, and people do not actually keep talking for all that long unless you make an effort to maintain the scandal — like Byron and his sister."

"Georgie! Who told you about that — the story is probably false."

"I hope so — a brother and sister together! — it is terribly disgusting." Georgiana moved away from Darcy and theatrically wrinkled her nose as though she'd smelled something terrible. "Even if they are only half siblings, and only met after reaching adulthood — I _hope_ it is false…"

"I feel guilty, even if you think I should not."

"Lady Catherine will be a far greater object of mockery than I."

"I know you hate the thought of her going from acquaintance to acquaintance telling the story of your seduction by Mr. Wickham."

"Do not put those images in my head. Not sooner than needed." Georgiana shivered. "It is better than you marrying Cousin Anne and being stuck with her for the rest of your life — are you _certain_ Richard is so fond of her?"

Darcy nodded.

Georgiana shrugged. "It is passing strange."

The twisting anxiety Darcy had felt before was now gone, and matters about Lady Catherine's likely behavior became tactics. "I should talk to Chancey to tell him the story. There is also another matter, the scandal may be worse than you expect…"

" _I_ shall tell it to him first." Georgiana frowned, obviously not liking the prospect.

"You do not need to."

"Need to? Of course I need to. It is simply an unpleasant subject. Andrew and I always share important matters like this. Don't you think it is important to be able to tell the man you shall marry everything?"

"I shall not marry any _man_."

Georgiana hit him again. This time playfully. "That was terrible."

"Georgiana, there is something else I must tell you. I hope… There is a woman…"

Georgiana peered at him closely. "Aha!" She jumped up and down on the sofa and clapped her hands. "You are in love!"

Darcy reddened.

"And you met and courted this lady while affianced to Anne. Very unlike you, brother."

Darcy shrugged. If he was going to feel guilty about something it would not be _that_ …

Georgiana laughed. "Tell me, tell me, tell me _everything_!"

"It is not settled… You see, Lady Catherine is causing problems."

Georgiana rolled her eyes. "Beyond blackmailing us so that you marry her daughter?"

"Beyond that."

"The woman you love! Tell me about her!"

"We met years before. I must have spoken about an Elizabeth Bennet before. Her family suffered a fall in status after her father's death, and she took a position as a governess to Lady Catherine's new ward."

"Ohhhh. _That_ is why you played with the girl so much. I remember her. I thought you might have been in love with Miss Elizabeth. But nothing ever came of it."

"I was."

"Well why did you not marry her _then_?"

Darcy smiled. "I made mistakes, I made a hash of it when I proposed to her then, and I insulted her family. Which is quite absurd, since none of them were nearly so bad as Lady Catherine. Or maybe her sister — Georgie, there will be a scandal attached to my marrying Elizabeth. I will speak plainly, because you will hear others speak plainly. Her sister was seduced by Mr. Wickham, and then she abandoned her daughter with her family and since has lived with a variety of gentlemen."

"Oh."

"You cannot judge Elizabeth by the behavior of her family, any more than you ought to judge me by the behavior of Lady Catherine."

"No…not that. I do not believe you could bestow your favor on an unworthy woman. But it still is a…surprise."

"There is a further problem. Elizabeth is deeply attached to Miss Williams, her pupil, and she will absolutely not leave the girl with Lady Catherine. So if I am to marry her, I must find a way to convince Lady Catherine to transfer Emma's guardianship to someone else."

"Well, I approve of that." Georgiana nodded firmly. "Leaving a child under Lady Catherine! Look what happened to Cousin Anne."

"Yes, so you see my problem. I also must find Mr. Wickham, since a joke of his led to a maid being accused of a serious theft. Lady Catherine wishes to use the law to murder a woman she knows is innocent."

Georgiana thought about what Darcy said. Then she stood up. "Well, I had best talk to Andrew."


	16. Chapter 16

Lord Chancey was a boyish young man who looked younger than his five and twenty years. He was a fine horseman, dancer, and fencer while still being tolerable when forced to talk about something other than outdoor activities.

He also had a surprisingly intimidating scowl. Darcy had not seen it before.

Steepling his hands in front of him, Chancey said, "Darcy…I understand hiding the story, but you took the matter _far_ too far."

"Would you really have fallen in love with my sister? If you had known about her…mistake before you met her?"

Chancey waved his hand about. "I damned well would have. It was four years ago and Georgiana is so… she looks so…" Chancey trailed off seeming to remember that he was speaking to Georgiana's guardian. "Ah, the first time I saw her…" His eyes grew distant and a little wider. "I certainly wouldn't have been bothered by a silly bit of youthful nonsense."

There was something fatherly in Darcy's attachment to his little sister that made him uncomfortable to see the evident ardor in her betrothed. To hide his discomfort, Darcy took a long drink of the cool ale that had been brought up from the cellar. He still felt the exhaustion and sort of weakness that came from being able to sit in a shaded place after spending hours sweating on the road.

Chancey continued, "You were right to _hide_ the story, of course — but when your aunt… Darcy, what the deuce have you been thinking? Did you believe I had so little affection this would make me _jilt_ Georgie? Good God! You'd given me permission to marry her. Did you think so little of me, of her, of your own judgement?"

Darcy pulled at his sleeve, feeling like a chastised schoolboy. Almost. It was an unusual sentiment, and one he'd never received from conversation with a younger man. "You are right. I…"

"Yes," Chancey prompted after a pause.

"I was ashamed to admit my failure. My duty was to protect Georgiana, and I have always felt deeply shamed by my failure. If it was my failure, it was my duty to see it did not harm her."

Chancey shrugged. "You are rather focused upon yourself — in a kindly way."

Darcy winced. "I attempt to pay attention to the feelings of others."

"You are not very skilled at it."

Darcy drank the rest of his ale and stood up. He had already told Chancey the story of how Lady Catherine wished to execute a maid for accepting a gift from Wickham. "I need to go off and see if the address I have for Mr. Wickham is correct."

"Let me come with you. I am eager to meet him. Georgie's story fascinated me."

Darcy frowned at his future brother-in-law. He sounded completely mild. But still… "We do not wish to hurt him. His cooperation may be necessary to protect the maid from Lady Catherine."

"What are you speaking of?"

"You said that you were eager to—"

"Oh! That! No. No." Chancey looked genuinely shocked. "Darcy! Now I wonder what else you might think of me. I am a civilized man. I would never try to exact some punishment upon a story from Georgie's past. One which she learned a useful lesson from."

"No?"

"Of course not. I simply wish to _meet_ Mr. Wickham."

Darcy looked at the young man for a long time. At last he sighed. He owed Lord Chancey some consideration since he had not trusted him before.

The place was in central London just a few blocks from their club. Wickham was staying at a large fine inn with rows of imposing windows and several uniformed footmen at the entrance. They went up to a clerk who was present to greet those who arrived at the small building.

Darcy put his hand on the desk. "Is Mr. Black present in his rooms?"

"Mr. Black?' The clerk grimaced with disgust. "Do you have business with him?"

"We do. Which room?"

They received the direction and went up to the room. Before knocking Darcy looked at Chancey. "I can trust you not to say anything which will make matters more difficult."

Chancey shook his head. "I really do wonder at your mistrust."

Darcy tested the door to see if it was locked. It was not and swung open easily. Both gentlemen stomped in.

Wickham lay on a divan. A busty young woman who was bare from the waist up lay on top of him, and another girl who was bare from the waist down was kissing his feet.

At the sound of other men entering the room, the girl on Wickham's lap shrieked in surprise, while the one at his feet looked at the two men with a seductive gleam in her eye. Wickham opened his eyes which had been closed while kissing the girl in his lap, and he blinked lazily at Darcy.

"How did you find me, old friend? And who is your friend?"

"Wickham! Did you visit my aunt yesterday?"

He laughed. "You _know_ you can't get such answers out of me for free." Wickham pinched the ass of the woman who was hiding her face against his chest. She shrieked and giggled and wriggled closer to him. The other woman blew Darcy a kiss.

"This is no amusing matter. A woman's life depends upon it."

"Isn't that a bit of an exaggeration? Your cousin _is_ likely to die if she becomes with child, but I can't believe you _really_ intend to give her a tumble."

"Wickham! I will not play games. Your prank with the maid."

"My prank?" Wickham somehow leaned further back into the couch and said to Chancey, "Since our mutual friend is too irate to introduce us, we must do the honors for ourselves. I am George Wickham, late of Derbyshire."

"Andrew Patterley, Lord Chancey."

"Lord Chancey?" Wickham sat up with interest, dislodging the woman on him, who he then grabbed to keep near. "You are to marry Miss Darcy?"

"She told me a fascinating story about you."

"Whatever Lady Catherine tells you, I swear I never took anything from her. She was silly and in love, but Miss Darcy knew what she owed honor."

"I know."

"I intended to come to you privately if Lady Catherine ever made her rantings public. Miss Darcy is an excellent young woman. She was a sweet young girl and it was easy for a man like me to fool her into thinking she was in love. If you hold that against her, you do not deserve her."

"You thought you deserved her?"

Wickham laughed. "Not I! Zounds, no! I would not have let that stop me. I was desperate to gain a fortune then. There are better ways to get on. I am a leaf blown by the wind, yet I somehow always _find_ fortune."

"Like a leaf borne by the wind? I envy you that. Only a little, but… I know what my life shall consist of, and while it will be prosperous and happy…sometimes I wish for the adventure, and the uncertainty."

"Many gentlemen wonder. Not everyone should be a stick like your new brother. But if you are bored, you might waste your fortune and travel Europe fleeing your creditors. Write poetry like those admirable fellows: Byron, Shelley."

Chancey laughed. "Do I look like a poet?"

"What is wrong with you?" Darcy exclaimed looking at Chancey in confusion. "Wickham, did you give a maid by the name of Pamela Evans — she has brown hair, and a mole where her neck meets her ear on the left side—"

"Goodness, what have _you_ been doing with my Pamela?"

"You remember her? I thought it likely you'd not remember the name, so I memorized some physical features you would remember."

Wickham drew back looking honestly offended. "I _always_ remember the name."

The girl who'd been on his lap scrambled away and pulled her chemise up. Wickham pointed at her, "Harriet." He then pointed at the other girl who had seated herself on a chair and spread her legs wide to show both gentlemen an ample view of her female parts. "Lutecia."

Harriet giggled and nodded.

Lutecia spread her legs wider and gyrated. "It is not my real name."

"Did you give Pamela a brooch that you'd _somehow_ gained from Lady Catherine?"

Wickham giggled. " _That_ is what this is about? Why on earth would you come all the way to ask me about _that_? I thought you would beg me to stop blackmailing you. I can't. I've given Lady Catherine signed statements from both myself and Mrs. Younge attesting that I took your sister's virtue. She also has a bloody sheet from when I slept with some virgin — actually an acquaintance of yours, a Miss Lydia Bennet—"

In a shocking movement Darcy rushed across the room and punched Wickham in the stomach.

Wickham jumped away from Darcy, holding his hands in front of himself to defend against any more attacks, while Chancey grabbed Darcy's arms in a firm wrestler's grip. " _You_ told me not to hurt the man unnecessarily."

"Hahahaha." Wickham's laugh ended in a cough as he held his stomach. "Damn, you have a fist on you, Darcy. I can guess — I'd thought it was Miss Elizabeth you held a _tendre_ for — I fear Miss Lydia never thought a lick about you."

"You ruined their lives."

"I will not accept the blame for the behavior of an unsupervised girl who would throw herself into the bed of anyone wearing a red coat on the flimsiest pretext."

"Their father died searching for you both."

"Did he?" Wickham frowned. "There was little money in the family. So have you seen Miss Elizabeth recently — you _are_ in love with her, aren't you? An engaged man." Wickham laughed. He turned to the shyer girl standing against the wall. "Darcy is always good for a great laugh. He is so stiff, but he still gets into such _dishonorable_ situations."

"The hairpin. Wickham. The hairpin. That girl has been accused of theft by Lady Catherine and shall be put on trial for grand larceny. Did you give her the hairpin?"

"Do you intend to accuse _me_ of theft?"

"Tell the whole story, or I shall drag you to Rosings and have you tried for its theft. I think I can prove you were in the neighborhood, and Pamela will quite happily confirm that you gave her the hairpin. You know the penalty for such a theft."

"This is not how your father would have liked you to treat me."

"Did Lady Catherine give it to you as part of your bargain?"

Wickham laughed. He turned to Lutecia who gyrated on the chair she sat on. "Never get old. It makes women foolish when a handsome man pays any attention to them. I can prove that she signed over to me a large sum of money yesterday. That will be good evidence that she also gave me the hairpin. Pamela _did_ wear the piece in front of Lady Catherine?"

Chancey smiled. "Darcy says she did. The bat was quite put out about it."

"There is no humor in this." Darcy clapped his hands to gain their attention. "She faces hanging if my aunt's vindictiveness is not stopped. I will have you promise to testify for her."

"Darcy—"

"I have every reason to despise you and to find ways to hurt you. Richard is at Rosings — and he is eager to see you as well. Do you really wish me for an enemy?"

"Frankly, I do not care. You've too much squeamishness to kill me, and I doubt there is much beyond that you shall do which will hurt me."

"I will have you tried for the theft of the hairpin if you cannot prove that Lady Catherine gave it to you. I think the jury will believe you stole it, especially with the _long_ list of other crimes I can lay against you."

Wickham rolled his eyes. "I must have a carrot. I'll not play your game just with a stick."

"Hmmm." Chancey was eyeballing Lutecia. "Do you care at all for this girl Darcy came all this way to help? You were close enough to her for her to accept such a gift."

"I wish Miss Pamela the best. But the enmity of Lady Catherine." Wickham shivered theatrically. " _She_ has no squeamishness. Besides she paid me a great deal. Should not an honorable man, such as myself, abide by that agreement?"

"So you really would not act simply to prevent the girl from hanging."

Wickham shrugged. "It seems unlikely that it shall come to that. Pamela is a quite pretty girl. It is no surprise Darcy has chosen to be her champion. She was the sort who will be grateful."

With raised eyebrows, Chancey looked at Darcy.

He hoped _Elizabeth_ would be grateful. "I have not the slightest interest in the maid, except as a fellow human being."

"An attractive _female_ human being." Wickham grinned at Darcy. Darcy thought about punching him again.

Chancey sprawled out in an unoccupied armchair. "This is rather cold."

"If she was dimwitted enough to _actually_ wear such a piece in front of Lady Catherine, she quite deserves her fate."

Chancey shook his head now, forcing his eyes away from Lutecia, who pouted at losing her audience. "I cannot agree with that. She is very young, and she should be given a chance to learn. Besides, even if she _deserves_ such a fate for stupidity, one does not want the pretty girls to hang."

Wickham and Chancey looked at each other.

Chancey smiled widely. "I think we can understand each other. Do give Darcy the papers proving you received the money from Lady Catherine, and promise that if he needs you to, you will testify. I shall owe you a favor, and some measure of friendship—"

"Friendship! With _him_?" Darcy exclaimed.

"Yes, friendship. On my part. Darcy only owes you a favor."

"A favor? Precisely what sort of favor?"

"Now Wickham, I see the sort of man you are. Presently you have a great deal of money. But that will not last; you'll lose it or spend it in some manner. If you were to get money from us _now,_ that would have no benefit for you. But if you are owed a favor by an earl and by the master of Pemberley, someday, when you have spent all the ready you have on hand at present, it may have value."

Wickham tapped his finger against the side of his cheeks and then said to the prostitutes, "Girls, what do you think?"

The shyer one replied, "Oh yes. You should do it. This Lady Catherine will not live forever."

The one with the naked hips said, "You can't leave that poor girl to hang for your joke."

Wickham stood up and shook Chancey's hand. "Then I am at your service."

Chancey grinned and asked, "Do you still have any compunctions about violating your agreement with Lady Catherine?"

"Lady Catherine? Zounds, no! She is… Fitzy, she is _your_ aunt, so I should not speak plainly about her in front of you, due to the deep affection you hold for her. Family feeling and all. But I will say it: She has a touch — just a slight touch mind you — of arrogance. It quite puts me out to indulge her in anything. Also she has this obsession with telling people what to do — you do as well, Fitzy."

Chancey grinned. "Are you saying that even honorless, thieving adventurers cannot stand Lady Catherine's love of advice giving? I had thought it was only me and Miss Darcy."

Wickham laughed. "You are quite a good man. I was always fond of Miss Darcy, and I am glad for her sake that she has met someone worthy of her. Today, I am glad my scheme fell apart. I would have wasted her entire fortune, and not been better off for it."

"I am pleased you failed."

"You cannot fault a man for trying."

"I certainly can, and I _do_."

Wickham laughed.

Darcy found it a little disturbing that his future brother-in-law and Wickham seemed to get along together as well as a pair of frisky kittens.

Wickham dived into a bag he had on the side of the bed in the corner of the room. He tossed underclothes, wrapped up parcels of food, and a dozen packs of playing cards out. At last he exclaimed, "Aha! Here they are!" He held up a packet wrapped in tan paper. "The receipts from Lady Catherine's bank, and the letters in her hand instructing me to be paid for services rendered."

Darcy carefully looked through the letters. "I also need a signed statement from you."

"Yes. Yes." The writing desk provided by the inn had stationery in it, and a quill and ink. After a minute, Wickham signed a note with a flourish. "Here. Here." He waved the sheet in the air to dry the ink, and then stuffed it into Darcy's hand. "That is enough for now." Wickham grabbed the shyer girl and pulled her for a kiss. "I have other plans."

Darcy had what he needed. Perhaps this would not be enough to convince Hawdry to release Pamela without waiting for a grand jury to assess the evidence, but he could try. He also would be able to threaten Lady Catherine with Wickham's words.

Rather than remaining to annoy the increasingly amorous Wickham who was fondling the girl's breasts without paying any attention to Darcy, Darcy left the room.

As they walked down the stairs, Chancey said, "What a delightful man. He is completely unapologetic about his defects, and quite happy to own them as well. Why ever did you let him go?"

Darcy stared at Chancey for a long minute, attempting to assess whether the younger man was serious. "Just don't lend him anything you wish to see returned."

"The deuce! I'm not stupid."

"If I'd known about your poor taste in friends…"

"He'd make a terrible friend, but he is a fine entertaining acquaintance. Really, why _did_ you let him go?"

"He was not nearly so unapologetic when I knew him. It seems even George Wickham has changed, though not for the better — do not let his charm make you forget this entire matter involves him being party to blackmail and playing a prank which has placed a young woman on trial for grand larceny."

Chancey waved his long white hands to the side, dismissing that whole notion. "'Tis that gnawing rabbit of your aunt. I am quite serious that if Lady Catty told me to breathe, I might choke just to spite her — your friend Wickham merely acted on the feeling Lady Catherine gives to us all."

Darcy grinned wildly at the image of Lady Catherine as a big rabbit with disturbingly long protuberant teeth. He liked the image. "I know the precise feeling you speak of. That need to defy her had been growing in me for the past weeks and now…now I shall tell her that she might die and I would not attend the funeral."


	17. Chapter 17

"No, honey. No, you can't go play. We need to stay here."

"Buuuut…please. Normally I can play now."

Elizabeth sighed. It was well into the afternoon. Soon dinner would be served. She normally gave Emma an hour to run about outside. But today she was nervous. Lady Catherine had scared her. She was too angry. Elizabeth did not want to let Emma out of her sight, or let Lady Catherine catch them doing _anything_ to which she might object.

"This is not a good day."

Elizabeth had not let Emma leave the nursery once all day. They had sat here without movement or exercise. Despite the open windows and the slight breeze, the room was stifling.

"Why noooooot. I just want to go outside!"

"You know what Lady Catherine is doing to Pamela. You like Pamela."

"They won't hang Pamela. Mr. Darcy will save her."

"I believe in him too."

"He will come back and everything will be all right. Can I go outside? I really want to go outside."

Elizabeth remembered him asking her again to marry him. It would never be all right for Emma and her. Tears began to pop into Elizabeth's eyes and she frustratedly wiped them away. "Just sit and read. You need to study."

A heavy set of footsteps sounded in the hallway, and Elizabeth caught her breath, fearing it was Lady Catherine. She heard the tapping of a cane. It _was_ Lady Catherine. The woman walked past the door without stopping.

Elizabeth let out a long breath, her heart beat terribly fast. She was aware how fragile Emma's position was. What would Lady Catherine do to Emma when she learned that Darcy would not marry Anne? How would Emma react when she learned that Darcy could not save them all?

Lady Catherine would certainly physically strike Emma again. Elizabeth knew she would need to be able to stand aside and watch it happen again. Emma had not been touched since Darcy challenged Lady Catherine after she slapped Emma in the drawing room. Elizabeth was not sure she could silently watch her darling child be slapped or spanked again by that monster.

But if she did anything she would lose her position, and then Emma would be alone.

Emma looked out the window again. "Pleeease, Miss Lizzy. I just want to run outside."

"Go back to your seat and read."

"I won't study just because Lady Catherine wants me to."

"Then study for yourself. Goodness — Emma, you will be a gentlewoman one day. Act like it!"

Emma looked at her with wide eyes.

Elizabeth had a rage driven by the stress and the anxiety she'd felt every time she heard steps in the hallway next to them. The grief of refusing Darcy for Emma's sake was also in her body. "Just behave like a good girl _for one day_!"

Emma began to cry, and Elizabeth felt sick. She sat down next to Emma and embraced her. "I'm sorry. So terribly sorry. I'm scared. I've never been more scared. I don't know what will happen."

When Emma saw that Elizabeth was crying herself, she hugged her back.

Elizabeth stood up, taking Emma's hand. "Promise not to run out, and if we meet Lady Catherine, look down and agree with everything she says. Let's go to the kitchen and see if there is anything there for you."

They looked both directions before hurrying into an entrance to the servant's stairway hidden behind a painting. Elizabeth felt such an odd combination of terror and rage towards Lady Catherine.

She had chosen to try to kill a young woman out of spite.

What would Lady Catherine do to Emma, or even to Elizabeth herself, if they stayed near her? But there was no escape. Lady Catherine was the only person who held a legal tie to Emma. Elizabeth needed to stay. Elizabeth cared more for the little girl than anyone else in her life. Including herself. Including Darcy.

The smooth feel of his lips. The memory set her heart thumping again. Kissing him had been an entirely impulsive gesture, but she could not repent. Elizabeth wanted to cry again.

Darcy's face in the moonlight streaming through the open windows. His deep goodness and kindness to her, and to Emma. His kindness to Pamela, who he must disapprove of. He was the best, best man she knew.

They quietly ran down the stairs and entered the kitchen. Mrs. Shore was there, slicing long strips of meat from a haunch of beef that would be rolled together to form a roast.

Elizabeth exclaimed in surprise, "I thought you had left — it would be natural."

The woman glared at Elizabeth before she returned to sawing her knife through the thick muscles of the dead cow. "I considered it. I did. Don't doubt it. But it don't do Pamela no good for me to lose such a good place."

"No, it does not…"

"You ain't left either." Emma reached towards the jar with the biscuits. Mrs. Shore slapped the girl's hand away. "Not today."

Emma looked at her with her wide hurt eyes. And then the woman turned away with a huff. "Just take it. You're only half a gentlewoman anyways. They'll never accept you. Not being illegitimate."

The girl nodded, clearly not caring about the content of Mrs. Shore's speech. When Mrs. Shore let her grab a biscuit she smiled and prettily said, "Thank you."

Mrs. Shore ill-naturedly grunted and returned to her work of removing the meat from the bone. "You did not quit either, Miss Bennet. And you were friendly with my niece. Nobody left. People don't. It's the way things are."

"I must stay for Emma."

Mrs. Shore rolled her eyes. "Don't matter none to me what your excuse is."

Emma started chattering with a girl her age who was the younger daughter of one of the servants. Lady Catherine would be angry if she saw Emma associating with someone who was not of an appropriate class, but Elizabeth hated to drag her away from a momentary bit of companionship on such a difficult day.

It would be safer to go back to the nursery.

Elizabeth hunted for words to let them part in a friendly manner. Mrs. Shore's anger gnawed at Elizabeth. She'd felt that guilt since Lady Catherine ordered her to move away from Pamela and she did.

"It rubs me dry." Mrs. Shore put the knife down for a moment and carried the strips she'd gained from carving one side the haunch to the second worktable so they would be out of her way as she finished carving the meat. "That a woman like that can murder — at least try, that nephew of hers says he'll get Pamela off—"

Mrs. Shore picked the knife up again and with a squishy sound resettled the haunch of meat. "She can try to murder my brother's daughter. And no one can do anything to punish her for it. The law! Ha!"

Elizabeth nodded.

"Mr. Wood knew Pamela since she was a girl. He held her there. Tied my little niece to a chair. Like a common street ruffian. And then they dragged her to the gaol. Johnny and Joe guarded her, like she was some dangerous man instead of a sweet girl."

"What could they have done?"

"Something! I am damned tired of that excuse."

She sawed the knife right through the bone with a grating sound, and then ripped it free. With a growl she looked up at Elizabeth, who flinched away. Mrs. Shore set her knife against the raw meat and began cutting the next strip.

"Them French had the whole notion right. They did _something_." There was extra bloody viciousness in her expert motions with the long carving knife. One after another pieces of meat plopped neatly to the side. "They just killed the whole lot of them. Everyone who didn't flee fast enough—" Mrs. Shore gestured across her throat with the knife, making droplets of blood spray over the counter. "Maybe we should do that here."

Elizabeth would not shed a tear should Lady Catherine die, but to say she ought to be killed — especially with the turmoil of the past years. Those were dangerous words.

Mrs. Shore realized that too. She snarled at Elizabeth. "That's enough dilly dacking. I have my work — get out of here, Miss Bennet. _Get out_."

Emma followed Elizabeth into the garden next to the kitchen.

Elizabeth breathed deeply several times before she could continue on her way.

Emma asked curiously, "Why was Mrs. Shore angry at _you_?"

Elizabeth had the guilt too. She had stepped away from Pamela too.

A sudden fear jolted Elizabeth's body. What if Mrs. Shore had returned to kill Lady Catherine. To do something.

The sharp motions of that knife. The blade pulled across Lady Catherine's throat, leaving that bleeding, gaping wound. Blood. Blood.

Mrs. Shore might be on the verge of anything.

She needed to protect Mrs. Shore from her own anger. The woman needed to be away from Rosings long enough for her mind to calm and her good sense to return.

Elizabeth could not go to any of the people who might force Mrs. Shore to leave. It would be insane to approach the butler or the housekeeper, or even worse Hawdry or Lady Catherine herself. What Mrs. Shore had said could be interpreted as sedition, conspiracy, and treason. It implied a threat to the life of even the king himself — since one of those who had been dealt with by the French was their king.

In the past years, since the end of the war threw so many out of work, there had been discontent on the streets. The government took a severe view of such things. Mrs. Shore's words alone would place her in gaol if someone like Lady Catherine wished to see it.

Even had Darcy been here, Elizabeth would have hesitated to tell him the details of this conversation. She trusted him in everything, but he took his duties seriously, and she was not _entirely_ sure how he would interpret them in this case.

Elizabeth struck on the answer: She had met Pamela's father a few times at market, and his cottage was a mere half mile away and situated right next to the deer park. If she came to him and found the right words to express her concerns, he may be able to work upon his sister.

Elizabeth looked around at the house. She should not bring Emma with her for this conversation. Her duties now conflicted. She looked at Emma.

"Can I play _now_? Lady Catherine won't come outside. I can run away if she does." Emma giggled at that thought.

Elizabeth stared at her. Then she remembered Mrs. Shore's shouts. Her stomach squirmed with worry. "Be careful. Do not go near the house. I am going to the house of Pamela's family, and then I will return here."

Elizabeth went across the yard in a rush. She needed to quickly manage everything. Today was not a good day. The cottage Pamela's father lived in was a snug model brick affair, built when Sir Lewis de Bourgh had uprooted two villages to create his park and provided the peasants with new houses in compensation. There was a tidy well-kept garden in front, and Pamela's father, Mr. Evans, sat on a bench in the garden, cleaning the harness for a plow.

He stood up upon seeing her. "Hullo, Miss Bennet. Is there some news about Pamela?"

The man's tone was guarded, and his expression was odd, halfway between sharp suspicion and friendliness.

Elizabeth pressed her tongue against the roof of her mouth. She might say the wrong words and make him think she was threatening Mrs. Shore.

"You may look like a flower, but I've got more worrisome matters than watching you stand bout." The anxiety was evident in the sharp impatience of his tone.

"Mrs. Shore. Your sister. Your sister. I heard her say…she said…"

The expression on the man's face became grim. He picked up the harness he was working on and placed it under the awning of his porch. "Come in out of the sun. We'll get you something cool to drink."

Elizabeth followed him in.

Pamela's mother was sewing a baby's dress in an upholstered chair next to the window. She stood and saw Elizabeth and the grim expression on both their faces. "What's the matter! Did you hear something from that gentleman about our Pamela?"

"No." Elizabeth shook her head. "He will find Mr. Wickham and get Pamela released. I trust him."

The woman nodded. She swallowed and then said in a nervous voice, "Mr. Darcy is being very kind. Miss Bennet, would you wish some tea?"

"Yes, thank you very kindly."

The older man waved for Elizabeth to sit in one of the sturdy chairs around their rough dining table, and then sat down himself. "It is damned foolishness. Young people these days are too uppity. No respect for our betters. Pamela wearing those jewels — she ain't so old that if she wasn't in gaol that I couldn't take her over my knee and birch her fine — not that I beat the youngsters often… I must control my tongue. You are a lady. It was the stupidest thing I've ever heard out of my girl, and she's always been a difficult 'un."

Elizabeth nodded quietly, waiting for her turn to talk. The pause helped her to settle herself.

The wife brought a teapot to Elizabeth and placed a warmed scone in front of her and sat down with them, pouring all three of them a cup of tea, starting with Elizabeth.

Mr. Evans continued, "That young man is a right generous type. The perfect gentleman. I went to see Pamela, and the bailiff is serving her hand and foot cause of what he gave him. We can visit whenever we wish. Mr. Hawdry wouldn't set bail. Knew that your Mr. Darcy would pay it right off."

Elizabeth blushed. She began to say that he wasn't hers. But then her brain stumbled over the idea of saying that and her face reddened further.

"I must thank _you_ as well. He's been our friend for your sake. I know that well enough. Pamela always said you were a good sort. Mary, she isn't calm. I told her she should stay away a few days. Let the old lady shift for herself and remember how much she loves a good meal. But Mary wouldn't listen. She was in a fine, fine temper, but thought she ought to return to keep the place. My son wants to — well never mind about that. Best you don't know. It's a silly thing, won't hurt anyone but us if he's caught."

The rambling suddenly ended. Elizabeth took a sip from her tea as a nervous gesture. Mr. Evans trained his eyes intently on Elizabeth. "What did Mary say to you?"

"She…she said the French did the right thing when they killed all their nobles, and the way she gestured — she was carving a roast, and the blood flew about. She scared me. She could say something to someone…someone like the butler or Lady Catherine herself. Those sorts of words… I am worried for her. I do not think she is in her right mind. I fear the consequences to her."

He nodded and sighed slowly. He wiped his hand over his forehead, to brush away sweat. "You are a good sort. Pamela said you tried to stop her."

"It did no good. And then… Mrs. Shore is right to be angry. No one has done anything to stop Lady Catherine."

"Your Mr. Darcy is doing more than anyone could expect any gentleman to do for a maid who had shown so much cow-brained foolishness as my Pam."

Elizabeth absently picked up the cup of tea and found it was already empty. She set it down a little too hard. "You need to talk to your sister. Get her away from Rosings for another night. She is too…she wishes someone would do something, but… I don't want her to be hurt."

"What I can do, I'll do it. Mary, she has her own mind. Too stubborn for a woman. Always has been."

Elizabeth nodded. "I thank you. I must find my pupil again. I do not like this day. It is too…"

"Feels like there is a storm coming. Only it's not going to be rain."

"Yes. That is what it feels like. Lady Catherine frightens me. What else she might do. But what she has done to Pamela is enough."

Elizabeth left the cottage and walked along the country lane back to Rosings. She moved slowly. In her mind, there was something like the miasma of a plague about the house created by Lady Catherine's presence. It was unsafe, it was unhappy, it was not a place she would willingly return to.

 _My feelings and wishes are unchanged._

Darcy's lips on hers. A little voice spoke to her. She did not need to return. Darcy had asked to marry her, she could live with him and be deliriously happy, enjoying his kisses and touches. She could become the mistress of that great estate. She could live in a large room and be dressed every night for dinner in the finest clothes. She could send her mother enough money to make her happy, Darcy could find a better living for Jane's husband, and he could help Mr. Gardiner pay his debts and find a more comfortable position.

The evening air was still, without much breeze to stir the brilliant green leaves of the trees, and Elizabeth began to sweat during the short walk back to Rosings.

All she had to do was abandon Emma.

Lady Catherine would drive her away eventually _anyways_ , so why wait. Why not leave now while she had Darcy's eye and love. While she felt this first happy flush of love and desire for him.

A strong breeze kicked up, going through Elizabeth's sweaty dress and making her shiver. She loved Emma. She could never, ever leave her. Elizabeth just wanted to find the girl and hold her and promise her that everything would be well. Even though it would not be.

Elizabeth reached the end of the meadow and walked up the drive to Rosings. She had long since become used to the magnificent façade of the building, and its rows and rows of mullioned windows, the tall chimneys and spires decorated in a gothic style, and the two wings of the house extending both directions.

As Elizabeth reached the front of the house and began to walk around to the back, she heard Lady Catherine shout from around the corner near the kitchen, "A spy! You filthy, vicious girl! Grab her! Grab her!"

Elizabeth ran around to reach as fast as she could.

The butler held Emma in his arms with a determined expression as Emma squiggled and struggled against him.

Lady Catherine called out, "Hold her tight!" She pulled back her leg to kick Emma as Elizabeth ran towards them.

Emma squirmed to the side, and Lady Catherine's boot kicked her butler instead. Emma ripped herself from his grasp. She saw Elizabeth and ran behind her.

Elizabeth stood in the pathway panting, with her hands on her legs. What had happened?

"Grab her! Miss Bennet, grab her so I can beat her!"

The shouts had drawn more people to watch. Mrs. Shore stood in the door to the kitchen watching them. One of the footmen who had held Pamela down the previous night hurried up along the other side of the building.

"What did Emma do?"

"She spies! For my nephew! She spies!"

"Ridiculous."

"She is his creature! She was hiding, spying. In the garden as I walked past! _Listening_. She wants to tell him. A spy! I'll destroy them both! Out of my way!"

"Madam," Elizabeth moved to keep herself between Lady Catherine and Emma, who continued to hide behind Elizabeth. "You do not sound well."

"You owe me! You were submissive this morning. Let me at her! I'll never give her to Darcy. He will be punished!"

"Madam, please. Miss Williams has nothing to do with your feud with Darcy. She is just a girl."

"A spy!" Lady Catherine pulled her cane back and swung it at Elizabeth's head.

Elizabeth threw her arm up to block the ironshod tip. It hit Elizabeth's arm with a sharp pain.

Lady Catherine pulled the cane back again and swung once more. This time Elizabeth stepped back so that it missed her. When Lady Catherine overbalanced and then moved to swing it back, Elizabeth grabbed the cane from the air and twisted it away from the older woman, whose grip was frighteningly strong.

"Grab her! Grab her!" Lady Catherine pointed at Elizabeth. "She assaulted me! You saw! Call Hawdry! I shall have you in the stocks for this."

Colonel Fitzwilliam had walked up behind Elizabeth, unnoticed by her. He put his hand on the butler's shoulder and said in a commanding voice, "That is enough. You can see my aunt is not herself. Let Miss Bennet and Miss Williams go."

"I am myself! I have never been so much myself. You are dismissed, Miss Bennet! Get out! Throw her out! I do not wish her in my lands any longer. She is trespassing! A trespasser. Arrest her! Trespassing!"

Colonel Fitzwilliam and the butler exchanged a long look. Colonel Fitzwilliam's manner was clear and commanding. The butler at last nodded. "I see. She is not herself."

"I will destroy you! I do not brook insolence. I am not in that habit! Miss Bennet, your family will be destroyed. I will hunt you all down. I shall make you all miserable. I shall ensure no man ever hires you! I shall ensure no one connected to you is ever employed again! I shall destroy everything!"

Elizabeth pulled Emma away from the ranting old woman, back up the path and around the corner.

Her arm hurt. Elizabeth looked at it and saw that the spot where she had been struck was bleeding. The metal-shod bottom of Lady Catherine's cane had torn the skin off her arm. Elizabeth shivered imagining that blow hitting Emma.

Emma looked at Elizabeth with wide eyes. "I didn't mean to! I meant to avoid her, like you said. I swear."

"I believe you, honey."

"You can't go! You can't! I need you! She can't stop Mr. Darcy from taking me, can she?"

"Emma…"

"I love you. Don't leave me like Mama, and everyone else did. Don't leave me with her. Don't."

Elizabeth felt a coldness in her stomach. She had somehow always expected this to happen. "Perhaps Lady Catherine will change her mind and not dismiss me."

Emma sobbed harder and held Elizabeth.

They walked into the house, and then went upstairs to the nursery.

So it had already happened.

Elizabeth wished to throw up. Lady Catherine was mad, and Colonel Fitzwilliam's action could only protect Emma for a little while. Soon she would be alone with the mad woman and her house full of obedient servants who could do nothing to protect Emma either.

Elizabeth quickly entered her room once Emma sat in the nursery and she grabbed a washing cloth to wrap around her bleeding arm.

"You can't leave me!" Emma ran up to Elizabeth again. "What will happen?"

"I do not know."

"Promise me you won't leave me."

Elizabeth began crying. She wanted to promise her. "I cannot promise anything."

"What about Mr. Darcy?"

 _He will not marry Anne. There is nothing he can do._ Elizabeth could not say it.

She kissed Emma's forehead. "Maybe he can help us. Maybe we shall still go together to Pemberley in a few weeks. It is so beautiful, and the flowers are in bloom, and there is a deer park, and so many cobblestoned pathways through the gardens."

"You are crying."

Elizabeth stroked Emma's hair and sat her on her lap.

"I thought Lady Catherine would kill me, and then I would join Mama."

"I will not let her."

Emma shuddered closer to Elizabeth, and shook her head. Elizabeth, following a powerful impulse, took the little girl's head in her hands and made her look at her. "Emma, I swear I shall not allow her to do that to you. I will protect you."

The coldness in Elizabeth's chest was stiffening to a resolve. She would throw anything away in a desperate attempt to protect Emma.

A cold voice sounded. "You should not make a promise you cannot keep."

Colonel Fitzwilliam stood in the entrance to the nursery with a pitying expression. "My aunt has calmed enough to allow you to remain until eight in the morning tomorrow. The house shall provide a cart to bring you to the post stop. Here—" Colonel Fitzwilliam extended his hand forward, holding a bank bill and several large silver coins. "Your wages. She wished to not pay them, but I convinced her that would be unwise."

Elizabeth resisted an impulse to throw the money upon the floor in anger, and instead calmly placed it in her reticule.

"And Emma?"

"She is no longer your responsibility. Miss Bennet, everyone, perhaps even Lady Catherine, can see there is something between you and Mr. Darcy. He will help you in some—"

"What will become of my girl!"

"She is _not_ your girl. As Darcy has determined not to marry Anne—" Colonel Fitzwilliam smiled "—Lady Catherine will not give the girl over to him. She is Lady Catherine's ward."

Elizabeth looked at Emma who stared with wide scared eyes. "Please don't go. Please don't. Mr. Darcy said he would take me. He said! He promised!"

"The deuce!" Colonel Fitzwilliam glared at the little girl. He said in a thundering voice, "You are old enough to understand. There are times when a man can do nothing. Times when unpleasant things happen. Darcy can do nothing. Lady Catherine is your guardian. That will not change. Accept it!"

"But Mr. Darcy said—"

"Damn you. My cousin is a damned fool. He can't do everything for everyone. He won't marry Anne for _your_ sake if he won't for his sister's."

"Colonel Fitzwilliam," Elizabeth spoke sharply, "I would appreciate it if you do not argue with my pupil or attempt to scare her."

"She needs to know."

"Might I speak with you privately?"

Colonel Fitzwilliam nodded. Elizabeth stood. "Emma, stay here."

"You can't leave me! Miss Lizzy! You can't!"

Elizabeth swallowed, and then she and Colonel Fitzwilliam went into the hall outside the nursery closing the door firmly. Elizabeth spoke in a voice barely above a whisper so Emma, who she suspected was listening on the other side of the door, could not hear. "I am frightened. For Emma. Lady Catherine tried to beat her."

Colonel Fitzwilliam shrugged.

"Emma is a child. She should not be left with such a woman."

"There is nothing that can be done. You _know_ that. Move on with your life. I think if you were to offer encouragement to Darcy, he would offer to marry you."

"He asked last night. But I cannot marry him because I need to protect Emma."

"That duty is past for you. Move on with your life. I would be delighted to welcome you into my family. My good word will help with my brother and—"

"It isn't duty. It is love. Being dismissed does not change my need to see Emma safe."

"But it ends your _ability_ to do anything. I will do what I may to protect her. I _do_ care."

"What can _you_ do?"

"I intend to often be present at Rosings, and I shall speak to the servants. They are not bad people, and I hope we can restrain any of Lady Catherine's excesses. A little beating never hurt a child, but if someone is there to stop—"

"Do you truly believe anyone will _stop_ Lady Catherine? Not at the cost of their position."

Colonel Fitzwilliam said in a hard voice, "It is the way things are. She is Emma's guardian. The law makes it right for her to choose what shall happen to the girl."

"Are you an Englishman? Have you not fought against tyranny? She is a little girl! You ought to be ashamed of yourself. A true man would do _something_."

Elizabeth realized her words echoed Mrs. Shore's earlier in the evening.

Colonel Fitzwilliam hesitated for a long time. Then he said in a harsh voice, "You must be packed by seven thirty in the morning so that the cart can collect your belongings."

Elizabeth reentered the nursery. Emma ran away from the door and sobbed against the wall. "You will leave me. You will."

Elizabeth tried to embrace her. Emma tore out of Elizabeth's grasp and tore open the door and ran to the opposite corner of the room. "Go away! Go away! I don't want to see you anymore."

"Emma…"

"You hate me. You only pretended to love me! Mr. Darcy too!"

Elizabeth sighed. She was not sure what to do. After watching the girl, who refused to look at her, Elizabeth sighed and went to her room. She needed to pack.

She removed the bloody cloth from around her arm. The wound had stopped bleeding and a scab had formed. She ought to immediately wash the cloth so that it would not stain, but Elizabeth had no energy to do so. It was just an object. She threw the cloth to the side.

Elizabeth opened each drawer of the dresser, and one after another moved pieces of clothing into her trunk. Hopefully, Mrs. Shore _would_ kill the old woman. The dress she'd worn the previous night had been hung in her closet. Elizabeth took it down to fold, and she stared at the lacing around neckline for a long time. There had been a half hour when she had been so happy.

She was now free to marry Darcy. This did not make Elizabeth happy. She was _frightened_.

Lady Catherine would beat and hurt, and maybe kill, Emma.

Elizabeth carefully folded the silk dress and packed it away into the traveling chest. She might never have the heart to wear it again.

The remaining packing went quickly, as Elizabeth did not have much clothing remaining. She blinked to keep back tears. She wiped them away.

Even if Emma's physical safety could be ensured, what fate would she have with her education and happiness controlled by Lady Catherine?

Elizabeth closed the chest and sat on it. Through the window she saw how the sky had turned black and the stars were visible. A single tallow candle burned on her nightstand. Elizabeth opened her chest again and pulled out a piece of stationery from where she had strapped writing supplies on the top and a thin board she used as a surface to write upon.

She snuffed the candle and began writing a letter: _Dear Jane, I do not know how to act. I cannot abandon Emma. No matter what I cannot. Yet I have no choice. If only Lady Catherine would conveniently die, like a character in a novel whose death allows everyone to become happy. But such a thing shall not happen._

The door between Elizabeth's room and the nursery was still open. Emma ran in and grabbed Elizabeth's stomach. She spilled the ink over the board and the paper. "Don't leave me here! Please don't!"

Elizabeth put the board and paper on the nightstand and held the girl tightly. She sobbed with Emma. The two clung to each other, frightened.

Emma slowly relaxed and her sobs became subdued as Elizabeth held her. She fell asleep in Elizabeth's arms. Elizabeth snuggled the child against her chest. She blew out the candle and laid down on the bed holding Emma.

The ceiling was barely visible in the darkness. It seemed to waver between there being a roof above her and an endless blankness. Elizabeth preferred the blankness.

She couldn't leave Emma.

The girl's slow breathing rose and fell against Elizabeth's side. There must be _some_ way to protect Emma from Lady Catherine.

Slowly the desperate measures that had passed earlier through Elizabeth's mind solidified and became real. She would act.

For several hours Elizabeth rehearsed her plan and added details, until the entire house was asleep and the deepest hour of darkness had arrived. She left the bedroom, quietly, to keep from waking Emma. When she returned Elizabeth shook Emma and put a finger over the girl's lips. "You must be completely quiet. You will never need to see Lady Catherine again."

 _Bang. Bang_. _Bang._

The terrifying sound woke Mr. Hawdry. With a shock he sat up straight in bed.

 _Bang. Bang._

The night was still black. Hawdry could not see his hands in front of his face. There was no fire in the grate due to season and no fringe of light peeked around the closed curtains. Before her death his wife had kept a light burning on the mantelpiece, in case she woke during summer, but he'd not kept the habit.

Robbers! Were they attacking the house? A desperate mob, like the ones who gathered in France. There had been hints of such a thing.

The pedestrian part of Hawdry's mind knew that it was probably a message sent by express. That meant bad news.

 _Bang. Bang._

The door below opened after the knocks.

There was a tension in Mr. Hawdry's stomach. He strained to hear some blow landed against his butler by a band of robbers. Instead he heard the barely audible whisper of voices.

Hawdry let himself fall back into the bed. Any matter that would bring someone to his door at this hour must be important, but his butler would bring the message up once he'd heard it.

Just as Hawdry's heart ceased to race and he began to drift back to sleep, the butler knocked on the door to his own room. His servant entered carrying a flaming lamp whose brightness made Hawdry flinch away and cover his eyes.

"What the deuce is it to drag me awake at this hour?"

"Lady Catherine… she…she's been murdered."

By the time Hawdry had arrived at Rosings Park, wearing a coat hastily thrown on over his dressing robe, the surgeon had already arrived. He was a young man with neatly cropped hair who clinically looked over the body with his hands behind his back.

Hawdry stared past him and then recoiled in shock. He nearly vomited.

He had seen murdered bodies before; he'd seen the body of a dear friend before. But never before had he seen a friend with her throat cut wide open.

There was blood over the sheets, over the bed, over the ground, over the surgeon's gloves.

Blood. Blood. So much blood.

Hawdry's stomach rebelled again, and he closed his eyes and breathed shallowly through his nose.

He opened his eyes and forced himself not to flinch away from the body of his dear friend.

 _Good god, Cathy, who would do this to you?_ Such a good woman, whose life had been dedicated to others.

He looked at the surgeon. There was a pattern to these things, and he'd been involved in a similar procedure with other murders since he'd become the magistrate for county. "Mr. Brandweiss, have you discovered anything?"

The surgeon studied the body with a sort of smiling fascination. He poked the gaping wound in Lady Catherine's neck with one of his gloved fingers. He glanced up with a dark smile and said in an almost pleased tone, "She perhaps suffocated before the exsanguination ended her life. A deep cut right through the windpipe. A single blow. It was a strong man who made the strike."

The acid in the back of Hawdry's throat rose. He forced himself to swallow it down. His throat felt rough and burnt. He saw in his mind the attacker swiftly pushing back the sleeping gentlewoman's throat, and then in one quick movement, before she had opportunity to realize what was afoot, the knife slicing across her throat. Then choking, unable to scream as the blood sprayed out.

Who would do such a thing to such a great woman?

The surgeon pushed his finger deep into the ghastly chasm in Lady Catherine's throat. "The windpipe was definitely severed. A damn good cut, I don't know if I could have done so well myself. Whoever did it knew his way about knives." He wiped his finger off on the bedding and placed his hands behind his back once more, and added with another dark smile, "I suspect the killer strongly disliked Lady Catherine."

Hawdry let out a shaky breath. He spoke to the body. "I swear. I swear I will find who did this to you, and I shall see them hang, though that punishment is far too easy for such a monster."

The surgeon glanced at Hawdry from the corner of his eye and had a half smirk that seemed to mock this solemn oath.

His bailiff entered the room along with the butler, who flinched away from the sight of Lady Catherine and lowered his eyes. Hawdry asked, "Who did this! This horror! Have you caught them?"

The bailiff and the butler exchanged a look, and the butler replied, "The governess, Miss Bennet, quarreled loudly with Lady Catherine in the evening, and Miss Bennet was dismissed and ordered to be gone from the premises by morning."

"Her! She lacked all subservience, but still, a gentlewoman…"

The bailiff said, "She disappeared, without taking her packed clothes, and the girl in her charge is missing, and there is cloth spotted with recent blood on her nightstand."

The surgeon turned towards them with his hands still held confidently behind his back and said in a sarcastic voice, "A gentlewoman, I doubt _that_."

" _She_ could!" The butler rubbed his hands together nervously and said to Mr. Hawdry, "She is a strong woman, and passionate. She flew into a rage and seized Lady Catherine's cane this evening."

At that Hawdry understood the truth: Miss Bennet had done it.

He turned to the surgeon. "Is it possible an enraged woman could make that strike?"

The surgeon rolled his eyes. "It was a difficult strike."

"I ask your opinion, as a man of science. Could a woman have made the blow?"

"If she were strong. And if she knew about knives, and…maybe. I'd believe it of a cook, but a gentlewoman?" The surgeon pulled the hand he'd been poking into Lady Catherine's throat from behind his back and pillowed his chin in it. "It is very unlikely, but not _impossible_. If you hunt this governess, you will ignore the real criminal."

"Your duty here is to examine and report. Not to identify the criminal." Hawdry remembered how Miss Bennet spoke sympathetically about the lower orders. By God, she had tried to comfort the thief who had taken Lady Catherine's jewelry.

She was no good woman. She had vicious propensities.

"Send out word to every carriage stop and postal station roundabout and on the road to London. Look at every inn and boarding place. Miss Elizabeth Bennet must be found and brought to justice."


	18. Chapter 18

Fitzwilliam Darcy hid in the seat of a recessed window along the ground side. He'd hunched himself in the small alcove to make himself smaller so that no one could see his limbs unless they looked at his refuge straight on. Part of his brain told him that he should _act_ somehow to deal with the catastrophe. The crisis; the madness.

There was nothing he _could_ do. He didn't understand anything any longer.

A maid carrying black flowers to stick in vases around the sides of each window of the house stopped at seeing Darcy.

He looked at her with dead, sad eyes.

She went on, leaving the window he was seated in undone. The flowered chintz curtains for all of the windows had already been replaced by heavy black wool. Darcy's eyes absently tracked the movement of the woman as she stopped in the next two alcoves, and then disappeared around the corner of the building. He leaned his head against the wooden frame of the window and stared at the slowly setting sun.

From how Hawdry explained it, the evidence seemed so clear. She had run. There had been the blood found on the clothes she'd left behind.

They would catch her, wherever she had run with Emma; the riders organized by Mr. Hawdry, or the Bow Street Runners that had been sent for by Anne.

And when they caught her, they would hang her.

Even if Elizabeth fled successfully, this ended his hope of making her his wife. She would never be able to return to England if she fled the country.

Why hadn't she trusted him enough to ask for help before she did such a desperate, violent thing?

He had promised he would help her if she ever was in desperate straits. If she had simply fled with Emma, he would have hidden the girl from Lady Catherine.

Darcy heard the sound of a half dozen horses riding back into the yard. It had been early in the afternoon when he arrived. Now it was beginning to turn dark, even though these were the longest days of the year.

Darcy jumped from his seat and stretched automatically. He'd not moved from that spot for three hours. Not since he'd listened to Hawdry: "By God! Poor Cathy. It was the governess who did for her. They'd quarreled about the girl, and Lady Catherine dismissed her. Giving her the position was a matter of milady's kindness, and see how she was repaid."

Elizabeth. No.

In front of the house, Richard stood next to his horse without moving. He stared at the building for a long time. The grooms and gameskeeper who'd ridden with him in pursuit of Elizabeth were already caring for their horses or dispersing back to their rooms and other duties.

Richard had a distant look in his eyes, like when he'd first come back from Spain.

Darcy touched his cousin on the shoulder. "Elizabeth. Did they capture Elizabeth? Is she still free? Is she alive? What happened?"

Richard looked through Darcy, as though he'd not heard him.

"Elizabeth! What became of her! Tell me!"

"Oh. Elizabeth. Miss Bennet." There was an unbearable pause. Then Richard said, "Yes. She was caught with Emma — the child is well, though unhappy — it was along the coach road. They've taken her to the gaol."

"The gaol?"

"There seems no question of her innocence. After all, she fled." Richard shook his head and spoke with a dark mocking tone, "She did flee from the scene of foul murder. Murder most foul as foul it is at the best. But this, most foul."

"Richard! Damn you! 'Tis no joke!"

"Hahahaha. 'Tis a joke of God. That is what we are made for. Sport for the amusement of our creator. Alas, the almighty set his canon 'gainst self-slaughter."

Darcy punched Richard in the gut.

Richard tumbled to the ground and looked up at Darcy from his dusty seat. Darcy glared down and said in a perfunctory tone, "I apologize. I had no call to strike you."

Richard laughed harshly. "You did. You do. I half forgot you love her."

"How can I love a woman who…who… Surely my feelings _ought_ to be changed."

He had to see Elizabeth.

He had to hear her explain.

Richard laughed at him again, before pushing himself up. Darcy did not offer his hand to help his cousin.

Darcy set off to the stables. He realized in an instant that he still loved Elizabeth. He did not care that she had murdered his aunt.


	19. Chapter 19

Elizabeth shivered despite the heat of the basement room they had stuck her in.

Her face throbbed in pain. How had this happened?

They planned to hang her.

Darcy would come. He would know she was innocent. He would prove that Mrs. Shore had killed Lady Catherine. She would be released. This nightmare would end.

It had been foolhardy to run with Emma, but Elizabeth had been sure that once she got away from Rosings she could contact Darcy. She had trusted him to help her protect Emma.

The bruise in her face pulsed and pounded. She didn't want to see how bad it looked. The man who'd caught them had struck her, right in front of Emma.

Poor Emma. She'd been terrified when they dragged them apart.

At least Lady Catherine was dead.

Elizabeth paced frantically. The cell was tiny. She could barely take a full step, and in half of the room she needed to bend her head to avoid hitting the roof. Elizabeth wanted to pick something up and fiddle with it. There was nothing. Her bags had all been taken from her. The room was empty. Except a straw pallet on the floor.

Elizabeth's hand strayed to her cheek again. She flinched away at feeling how swollen it was. She didn't want to know. She didn't want to see. She didn't want to feel so scared.

They wouldn't hang her. They wouldn't. They wouldn't.

She was innocent.

She hadn't killed Lady Catherine. She hadn't.

Elizabeth frantically stepped from side to side in the tiny room. There was a window that was half buried by dirt, and which let in barely any light from the fading afternoon. She'd stay in here for the rest of her short life. She would never stretch her legs again with a morning ramble. She would turn around and around in tiny, tiny circles until they hanged her.

There was pressure in her chest and her eyes began to swim with little black spots.

She didn't want to die.

Elizabeth placed her head against the window and breathed slowly.

She was innocent. They would learn she was innocent. Darcy. He would not abandon her. He would know she was innocent. She trusted him.

As if called by the thought of his name the door was pulled open and Darcy stood there, bending his tall head to enter through the small door.

The bailiff stood behind him and said, "There she is. Talk as long as you wish."

Darcy looked at her with wide eyes. He had a pale expression and his lips were thin.

Elizabeth's hand went embarrassedly to cover the massive bruise on her face. "Oh! I am glad to see you!"

"Elizabeth, why? I would have helped you hide Emma."

Elizabeth blankly looked at him in confusion. Then she sagged as she understood what he was saying. She said in a slow voice, unable to even look at him anymore, "You — you also think I murdered her? You believe it too? Even you?"

Darcy pulled his hands through his hair and walked to the side in a manner reminiscent of how he'd walked around after she'd refused his offer of marriage. "I cannot blame you! I heard from the footman and the butler how Lady Catherine behaved. You were right to fear for Emma — surely you could have found some other way."

Elizabeth felt like she'd been struck a desperate blow. She crumpled to the ground and sat on the straw pallet with her arms around her legs. She refused to look at Darcy.

He sat next to her and put his arm around her. "Elizabeth. Elizabeth. I do _not_ blame you. I… It does not matter to me. Not this. I love you yet. I will find some way to free you. Perhaps the bailiff will accept a bribe to be careless and—"

"I did not kill her."

Darcy was quiet for a long time. She would not know if his arm around her shoulder was a reassuring weight or not until he said if he believed her.

When he said nothing, Elizabeth added, "I was going to you. We were going to hide in London and send a message to you begging for help. I did not know what would follow, but I could not leave her with Lady Catherine. I could not. It was maybe wrong. I stole a child from her guardian… I could not… please. Darcy… look at me. I did not kill her."

Darcy looked at her. Their eyes held.

She could not read his expression. She looked away. Elizabeth buried her face in her hands and began to sob. "They are going to hang me. I did not commit the crime, and everyone — even _you_ will believe that I deserved to hang."

"Tell me that you did not do it."

Elizabeth looked up at Darcy. He put his hand on her shoulder. His serious blue eyes pierced through her stomach and soul.

She looked away from his intent gaze. "It is a terrible coincidence. I think it was Mrs. Shore. You see I heard her talking, and—"

"No." Darcy squeezed her shoulder and she looked at him. "Not now. Tell me later. Just tell me the truth while you look into my eyes, and I shall trust you, no matter what evidence the world brings against you."

She looked into his deep eyes. She now saw that he trusted her. "I did not kill her. I did not—"

Darcy pulled her into his arms. He held her so tightly against his body, and she cried and cried. She felt an overwhelming _safeness_ in his arms.

Her tears soaked through the thin fabric of his summer coat.

Elizabeth was still scared; even with Darcy's promise of support she feared a trial for murder. Only a fool would believe that every person convicted of a crime had done the deed for which they were punished. But she could not care about her fear right now in Darcy's arms.

She looked up at his face. He looked clearly back down at her. His face was beautiful, though she could barely see him through her tears and in the fading light that came through the barred window. He leaned down towards her, and she leaned up to him and their lips met.

Elizabeth clung to him tightly. He brought his arms around her, and he squeezed her against his chest so tightly she could not breathe. Elizabeth's heart felt full.

Darcy let her go and studied her face. His fingers brushed over the bruise left by the man who had placed her under arrest. "What did they do to you? Elizabeth, tell me everything."

She thrilled to hearing her name in his voice. Elizabeth shook her head happily. "It does not hurt so much now. I can barely feel it."

He looked at her with a skeptical eye. "You need not be brave."

She kissed him again.

Darcy held her tightly against his chest. "We must talk practicalities. I shall have you moved to a more comfortable room. It is a charge of murder, so I shall not be able to get bail offered. It will be easiest to have you released if I find the one who killed her — you said Mrs. Shore?"

Elizabeth nodded, still lightheaded from the kiss. She looked at his lips and he swooped his mouth towards hers to kiss her lips once more. It was a short kiss, and he said in a fevered voice, "I swear I shall get you free from this."

"I trust you."

He held her shoulder; his eyes were steady.

"Mrs. Shore—" Elizabeth looked down. "I tried to keep her from it. She had been talking. She thought the French did right when they killed their aristocrats. I saw she was angry enough that she might do something dangerous, so I went to her brother, and he went to talk to her, but whatever he said…"

"I understand."

"I never really believed she would do it, especially since — did you find Wickham? Will Pamela be released?"

"I have proof from Wickham, and Anne told me already that she knows Pamela is innocent of theft. I will have Anne send message to the bailiff that there will be no prosecution, and she should be released tomorrow. She is in this building; I will speak to her soon."

"Oh! I am glad. If only I had not run…"

Elizabeth realized Darcy would need to soon leave. She felt the throb in her face that had been forgotten.

He kissed her again. "I am glad you came to me."

"I would never go to anyone else."

"I will get the proof that it was Mrs. Shore. You shall be free soon. But I must go soon, to find her before she realizes that I suspect her."

Darcy knocked on the door and called through it to the bailiff. He returned and with the heavy key turned opened the lock.

"Well." The gruff grey haired man looked at Darcy with some mingling of pity and interest.

"There has been an awful mistake, and I am entirely convinced of Miss Bennet's innocence."

"My job is just to make sure she is kept here and can be produced when the time comes for trial. You _know_ I can't order her released."

"Mr. Hawdry had her committed here?"

"Yes. Yes…"

"This room is inadequate for the comfort of a gentlewoman." Darcy sneered at the straw pallet in the corner. "It should have been evident Miss Bennet warranted better conditions than this."

"I put her where I was told. She murdered the Lady of that manor four miles down the road and—"

"Miss Bennet did not murder her. She is innocent. I will not have you speak of her, or allow any man amongst your staff to speak of her as a murderer or a criminal. It is an unfortunate mistake that I hope shall be resolved this evening."

"That ain't my job to consider. You'll have to talk to Hawdry, and—"

"Place her in the best quarters. See to it that every wish Miss Bennet has is served." Elizabeth saw Darcy hand the jailor a bank note, and after he carefully studied it, the man's surly mood changed. He stuck it in his pocket, and with a smile he said, "Right away. Come up this way, Miss. I am sure it _is_ all a misunderstanding, and the old lady likely had it coming anyways."

They walked up three flights of stairs to a large upstairs room with blue wallpaper. It had a window with a view of the road in front of the gaol and the trees along the avenue softly swaying in the light breeze. The view was blocked partially by a row of bars, and there was a thick lock on the outside of the door.

The bailiff stood in the door. "I'll have your bags brought here if the men who captured you are willing to return them."

"They will return them, or I shall have them prosecuted for theft." Darcy stood next to Elizabeth, and took her hand despite the presence of the bailiff. Elizabeth felt the protective way he looked at her. "I must go, but remember…remember that I love you."


	20. Chapter 20

Darcy rode his horse at nearly a gallop back to the manor house. He needed to find Mrs. Shore and find the proof that she had been the killer. It may not be such a simple task. He felt exhilarated by the kisses he and Elizabeth had shared.

She _trusted_ him.

There could be no greater prize, not even her love, than how she had trusted him.

Only the quick fading remnants of twilight lit the yard when Darcy leapt off his horse in front of the stables and stalked off in search of his cousin.

It was not hard to find Richard.

As Darcy entered the little square where a footman had told him he would find Richard and Anne, he saw Richard's unsteady hands spill white wine over his coat. Richard was seated on a wicker lounge chair next to Anne. He lifted his glass high again upon seeing Darcy, letting the light from the torches set in the garden dazzlingly refract off the diamond cut glass. "Darcy! Darcy, Darcy — join us. We are drinking our sainted aunt's death. We cannot decide whether it is a celebration or a wake."

Anne's face was red, and she looked away from them both. Fitzwilliam exclaimed, "Annie! I embarrassed you, Annie!"

She quietly shook her head.

"Annie, you should drink more!" Richard lifted his glass and put his arm around Anne's shoulder and held it up for her to drink.

Anne stared at the glass of wine with her tightly pursed lips, and then in a darting motion she took the glass from Richard's hands and began to drink it.

She held it to her mouth and without removing the glass swallowed again and again; the firelight glowed on the necklace around her throat as she gulped each swallow down, and she held her head back so that she could let the last drops trickle into her mouth. Anne wiped her lips with her sleeve and put the glass down.

"That's a good girl! That's my girl. Give me a kiss, Annie!" Richard's praise was punctuated by him using a hand to grab at Anne's bum, and her protest was entirely perfunctory.

Richard looked at Darcy and said, "Back from that gaol. Visiting our governess. How did your visit to the mansion of the criminal progress?"

"I need your help."

"Hahahaha. You need my help!" Richard poured himself another glass of wine, which he drained in a quick easy gulp. "I am, as you see. Yours to command; though whether I obey remains to be seen."

Darcy ground his teeth. What was _wrong_ with his cousin? His fist throbbed from how he'd punched him earlier in the day.

"Can we speak seriously? Apart. This is a matter of some importance. You are a man of honor, and as your cousin I need your help."

"Nonsense! You can say everything you wish to tell me in front of my better half! Me and Annie are marrying in the morning."

Anne giggled and waved her hands wildly. "Mother can no longer do anything! She's gone. Gone. Gone!"

Darcy looked at Anne. There seemed to be no reply to that which would not sound as though he judged her glee.

He did not.

"She never let me drink so much. It feels so…happy! — More! Pour me another! I want more!"

Richard obeyed her command with unexpected agility.

"Such a great favor that governess did us." Anne giggled again. "A pity — you were fond of her. I never saw what besides impertinence she had to recommend her. Did you _actually_ visit her? How morbid. I could never visit someone they were going to hang."

"Elizabeth is innocent."

This sobered Anne a little. "She ran — I heard the whole quarrel. And she had that…that impertinence. That self-contained air. She could do it—"

"But she did not."

"Hahahahaha!" Richard slapped his leg again. "Innocent. And you'll prove it! Hahahahaha! But truly do you think that? Of course she is not innocent. None of us are. We all wished Lady Catherine to die. I know _you_ did. And now you can marry Miss Bennet — except she will be hanged first. 'Tis a grand joke. I told you so once." Richard held his hands up defensively. "No need to strike me a second time. The first left a nasty bruise."

"Get a hold of yourself!"

"I rather think not. I daresay I never shall again. Drink! Are you going to drink? You are being a poor companion."

"Of course I shall not. I can see it is useless for me to speak with you."

"Useless." Richard giggled. "Useless. Oh no, you can get great use out of speaking to me. I'll sometimes do something. Hahahahaha."

Anne had a bemused smile as she looked at her…betrothed.

"Have you any idea what he is talking about?" Darcy demanded.

Anne laughed. "Not a clue."

She began to sob.

Darcy left the garden.

He rubbed his face as he walked up to his rooms to find his valet.

Damn Richard! He needed his cousin to be useful at this time more than any other. And instead, at the point when Darcy faced the deepest problem of his life, he had turned into a drunken sot.

Darcy collected his valet, his coachman, the groom and the two footmen who had traveled to Rosings with his carriage when it brought his belongings.

After gathering them, Darcy walked alone to the house of Mrs. Shore's brother. His men would follow after him in two minutes, to ensure that a lookout would only see a lone man who might be coming to talk about Pamela.

As a precaution Darcy armed himself with a pistol and a gentleman's walking stick with a hidden blade.

He knocked on the door and the man who he assumed was Pamela's father opened it cautiously. "Who are you?"

"I am Mr. Darcy."

"Oh! Come in. Come in. I visited Pamela. She was full of your goodness. You have been so generous. If there is any way we can pay you back—"

"I have been glad to help." Darcy felt an odd guilt at his plan to capture a criminal who had been provoked the way Mrs. Shore had been. "I gained proof that your daughter is innocent, and Miss de Bourgh promised to drop the prosecution. I will get a letter from her and take it to the gaol tomorrow morning. I am here on a different matter. Is your sister present?"

Darcy half shouldered his way into the room. Pamela's father did not make any attempt to stop him, as Darcy had almost expected he would.

Mrs. Shore made no attempt to hide. She stood in the kitchen stirring a large pot of soup. Her face turned into a grim line when she saw Darcy. An incongruously delicious smell filled the room. There was something that did not seem right about the smell of the food.

Darcy kept his hand on the pistol in his pocket, and he said in a quiet voice, "You must have some suspicion as to my purpose."

"Your girl wishes to blame it on me. I expected she would. It just surprises me that she didn't do it earlier. She should have left some bloody knife in the kitchen and perhaps wrapped her hand up in an apron of mine she stole. She ought to have stayed in the house and told a story about things I'd said to her about how I'd like to see the mistress killed."

Darcy was quiet.

Pamela's father gasped. "Is that — is that why you are here, Mr. Darcy? My sister was here the entire night past."

Darcy's valet pushed open the door, and he and one of the footmen now stood in it. Darcy knew that his other servants would have circled around and were keeping an eye on the back of the house.

Darcy looked back at the man. "It is unkind of me, but I do not believe you."

Mrs. Shore pulled back her head and laughed. "But you believe Miss Bennet. She's a gentlewoman born; she could never try to kill a lady. She is too well bred for that. But Mrs. Shore, a poor widowed cook — she has no morals. She's practically a barbarian. She would murder a lady."

"It grieves me deeply. You had been provoked greatly. But that does not make it right to take the law into your own hands."

"Instead of leaving it in the hands of rich persons such as you?" She spat at the ground. "That is what I think of your law. So you got Pamela off. But you shan't get my gratitude for that. Your aunt was the one—"

"Are you willing to come with me politely, or shall I have to drag you before the magistrate to be placed in lock?"

"You want to find a substitute for Miss Bennet. I know you was sweet on her — even though you were an engaged man. Should have been ashamed of yourselves, exchanging looks like that. But I'm not the one who you'll take. I know my rights as an Englishwoman. I have friends. I am a respectable woman. I'll not be killed for what your woman did. I won't."

"Mary! You need not antagonize him. Mr. Darcy is a great gentleman." Pamela's father bowed deeply several times. "I apologize for my sister. She knows not what she is saying. But she was here last night. I assure you — it was on the suggestion of Miss Bennet."

"Don't bother. He does not care. He is looking for a scapegoat. Someone to protect his beloved murderess. I shall not go peacefully."

"I am a justice of the peace in Derbyshire. It is quite within my prerogative to have you taken and placed within the gaol on suspicion of murder." Darcy pulled the pistol from his pocket. "I would have preferred for this to be done peacefully."

Pamela's father's face turned pale. He held his hands up wide. "Mary! Stop insulting him."

Mrs. Shore did not move, except to reach forward and stir the soup again. Darcy thought there was something theatrical in the gesture.

"I do not wish to have you dragged away."

Mrs. Shore smiled with irony. "If we did not all know you were gone the night past, I would have suspected _you_. From what Pamela told me of your visit to her, I suspect she had driven you to rage as well."

"I never considered _murder_." Darcy realized that was a lie. He had imagined it, at least once.

"You picked a fine woman for yourself, willing to do what you were too cowardly to even consider."

"Admit your crime. I can ensure you are only transported; I will make sure that your family is well cared for. I _understand_ —"

"Hahahahaha, as though anyone could keep the peasant murderer of a lady from being hanged. They'll hang Miss Bennet for sure, and she is a gentlewoman. Doesn't matter, all these fine Ladies and Sirs, like you, are scared of us. I've been reading. If we all act, we can kill you all. So letting a woman get away with it without such a punishment — nay it shall not happen. I would be executed, and you know it well if you are honest."

"If your confession saved the life of another woman."

"Ha!"

"You cannot wish another woman to suffer for your crimes."

"Hoho. I did not do it." Mary choked with her laughter. "But you'll never believe the word of a cook. Or is it that you are too infatuated to care?"

"As a JP, I have the right to search this dwelling if there is any suspicion of foul deeds; it is a rented dwelling, and part of the estate of Rosings Park." Darcy gestured to one of his men. He had Mrs. Shore trapped, and now was time to see if she had left any evidence here that sealed her fate before the jury. "Search through. See what you can find."

"This is my brother's cottage, not mine! Surely you do not think I'd hide the bloody garments here, or whatever clue you hope to find."

The woman was suddenly pale with worry.

The reason was immediately apparent when following instinctively the process for finding where a poacher would hide his ill-gotten goods, Darcy's man discovered a hidden door beneath the pantry and found half of the fresh carcass of a deer neatly dressed and smoked in the cool air of the cellar. Darcy realized that the soup Mrs. Shore was cooking used venison for the meat. It normally would only be served as a dish in a wealthy household.

Darcy did not approve of the severity of the laws against poaching. The punishment for killing this deer was, at least in formal words of the law, as severe as that for murder.

He looked between Mary Shore and the venison Mr. Joseph had brought up to show off.

A young man with ruddy cheeks and a severe overbite entered the small cottage, pushing past the footman Darcy had set outside the building.

"She didn't do it. She was with me." The young man pointed at the deer. "We were carving up the deer — it wasn't poaching, just a theft. The deer had died on its own. It tripped and broke its neck."

Darcy recalled that Elizabeth had once accidentally revealed to him that someone close to Pamela had been involved in poaching. He thought this was her brother. He said in a hard tone, "Did the deer die in one of your traps?"

"You see that there is nothing you can have against Mary. She was _here_. And she did nothing wrong by helping us carve it up."

Mrs. Shore shouted at the young man. "Be _silent,_ Henry."

"She has a alli, alli thing."

"Alibi?"

Darcy felt sick. The large recently carved deer, the way that the young man showed up, the expert carving done to the deer. He'd seen Mrs. Shore make similar cuts before.

What if Mrs. Shore was innocent? What if she had been hiding in the room all night carving the illicitly acquired deer? But if Mrs. Shore had not been the one to kill Lady Catherine, who _was_? And how would he save Elizabeth without being able to reveal the real killer?

The young man chattered about how Mary was there, and about how the way he'd found the deer was not really poaching. Darcy did not hear any of it. He looked at how angry Mrs. Shore was at her nephew. From her expression she clearly expected him to be dragged away for poaching.

Darcy knew his failure. "Find a better hiding space for your meat." He looked at Mrs. Shore, who slumped in relief when she realized Darcy had no intention of seeing her nephew hanged. "I apologize for interfering with your day. I must ask, have you any notion who did kill my aunt?"

"I was here all night. How could I know what happened there?"

Darcy walked back the half mile to Rosings Park in a dejected silence, followed by his men.

 **AN: Just a quick hello there announcement. I just published story on Amazon that is in Kindle Unlimited, titled Mr. Bennet's illness: A Farce.** **A 13,000 word comic pride and prejudice variation, with love, absurdity, and a paragraph long quotation from Fordyce's Sermons**

 **After a serious illness Mr. Bennet dedicated his life to what truly mattered to him. Reading all the books.** **His problem: Noise, noise, noise.**


	21. Chapter 21

Elizabeth had not expected to be able to sleep at all, but when she laid down on the comfortable bed in her new room she drifted off immediately.

The hangman leered at her. He was the man who'd punched her and pulled shrieking Emma away. He laughed. A gentlewoman hanged, except not a _real_ gentlewoman.

Lydia was there: _You fool_ , her sister cried, _she was not even your child!_

Darcy touched her cheek. "Forgive me, Elizabeth. I failed you."

She tried to shout at him, "I love you."

The hangman pulled her away from Darcy.

 _Crack_.

Her neck broke as she fell through the trapdoor and with a scream Elizabeth awoke.

She sat up in the deceptively comfortable prison bed and breathed hard.

It was only a dream. She would trust Darcy. He wouldn't let her hang. He would prove Mrs. Shore committed the crime.

A faint light leaked around the heavy curtains.

The bailiff's maid knocked on the door and called through. "Madam, you cried out. Is everything aright?"

"I am well."

The way her voice shook as she called back scared Elizabeth.

There was a long pause and then the woman moved away from the door, her footsteps receding. She probably believed that Elizabeth had murdered Lady Catherine. But she'd know the truth when Darcy came back with Mrs. Shore.

Elizabeth had expected him to return last night. But it might take him time to find enough evidence and call Mr. Hawdry to Rosings. Or perhaps Mrs. Shore had fled and Darcy was chasing her like she had been chased.

She had been trying to hide, but only to protect Emma. It came before her eyes again: the man from the parish who recognized her grabbing Emma away and then the punch to her face as she'd tried to stop him.

What time was it?

Elizabeth opened the curtains and looked out over the road. The first rays of sunlight glinted off the leaves. The start of another day. It was a fine chance for a walk in the morning cool before it became hot later on.

Had she taken her last morning walk?

A yawn broke Elizabeth from her morbidness, but with a quick glance at the bed she shivered at the thought of trying to return to it. She sat in a chair by the window and pretended to read while she actually waited for Darcy to return.

After two hours the maid knocked to bring her drinks and breakfast. A young man stood at the door with his hand on a pistol in his belt to prevent any attempt she might make to escape while the maid served her.

Elizabeth asked, "Is there any news from Rosings Park? Is there any message for me?"

"No, Ma'am. Nothing."

With a stiff incline of her head, Elizabeth acknowledged the response. Breakfast looked well made but Elizabeth's stomach made it impossible to eat. She cautiously sipped the tea. It was decently brewed, but she found it hard to swallow because of a sudden and unexpected upwelling of tears.

She knew she was not abandoned by Darcy. She still felt terribly alone, as though he would never return.

Elizabeth ate her breakfast. Then it was removed. She returned to the window to wait. This time she didn't pretend to read.

An hour or two before noon he arrived.

He had a light in his eyes and said rapidly, "You need not worry. You do not. The case against you is thin. The jury will never be convinced by it. Hawdry will not listen to me but that does not matter. I'll have a barrister from London who will argue it. I have sent a letter to your sister Jane, and she and I will testify as to your character. They will not believe it."

"Trial, but… Mrs. Shore…"

"Innocent." Darcy shook his head and began to pace the room energetically as his words sent a spike of terror through Elizabeth. "She has an alibi which entirely convinced me. I was depressed for many hours and spent the entire night pacing in thought. It is not a hopeless situation. I have reviewed everything in my head many times, and I spoke at length with Hawdry after my cousin's wedding. He thinks that as I cannot point to another criminal, he must pursue you, but that is not the law."

Her stomach squeezed tighter. Elizabeth could not remain standing, and she collapsed into her chair. She could not breathe.

"Slow breaths. Breathe deliberately. Elizabeth, look at me." Darcy held her shoulders. He kissed her forehead and splashed her face with water from the basin. "You need not worry. This is England. We do not punish those who are not guilty."

"You know that is not always true."

Darcy pulled a chair close to Elizabeth and took her hand, slowly caressing her fingers. "It is all foolishness. Let me explain the evidence. The main issue is that you fled. But you had ample reason to flee. I have had Colonel Fitzwilliam, the footmen, and the butler testify about what they heard during the quarrel with Lady Catherine. This testimony was recorded in front of an attorney and clerk who wrote down what they said. That you fled with Emma is natural and not evidence you were the one to kill Lady Catherine. The jury will not believe you killed her."

Darcy's firmness let some of the anxiety drain away. So did the soft way he continued to caress her hand. It sounded clear when he said it that way. It was all a terrible mistake, and the jury would see that.

Tears began to swim in Elizabeth's eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Entirely. I found an opportunity to speak to the surgeon, and he thinks it is very unlikely a gentlewoman could make the strike that killed Lady Catherine. When he is called to testify at your trial, he will say as much."

"But..." Elizabeth gripped Darcy's hand tighter. "Must there be a trial. If the evidence against me is so weak—" She turned away from him and tried to pull her hand away from Darcy, but he did not let it go. "I am so terrified. I had a terrible dream. I thought I was abandoned, and you begged me to forgive you for failing me. If the magistrate, if Mr. Hawdry, was convinced I am not the murderess, could he not have me released?"

"Oh, Elizabeth. You are the bravest woman in the world."

"I am not! I am not brave. If Hawdry believes I killed Lady Catherine, the jury shall as well."

Darcy shook his head. "That man is a miserable excuse for a magistrate. He spent years as the puppet of my aunt, and now he wishes to see you punished to spite me — you need not worry. The jurors will be drawn from the body of the local Englishmen. They will know their duty. Even Hawdry shall. He wishes a trial to discover the truth, not the punishment of an innocent person."

"This speech was not near so comforting as your first." Elizabeth managed a weak smile at Darcy. Her fear was numbed by exhaustion.

"The other matter of evidence against you is the bloody cloth—"

"What?" Elizabeth suddenly felt confused.

"You wiped off your arm and left behind a linen cloth stained with blood. Hawdry thinks you wiped off Lady Catherine's blood with it after the murder. Colonel Fitzwilliam and Emma remember seeing it tied around your arm to stop the bleeding. The footmen will testify that they saw Lady Catherine strike you. And you have the injury here on your arm. We will have it observed by several men as witnesses before it can heal further. Obviously, if you had murdered Lady Catherine you would not have left such a piece of evidence atop your dresser."

"I left behind a bloody rag?" Elizabeth giggled. She felt hysteria, but it _was_ amusing.

"Yes, you did." Darcy smiled cautiously; he did not let go of her hand.

"Did you speak to all of these people before coming here?"

"I had hoped to marshall all of the evidence quickly, so I could convince Hawdry to release you."

The whole time she'd been waiting for him, he'd been working to help her. Elizabeth saw how Darcy's eyes were red and sagging. His hair was disordered, and his clothes were wrinkled. She pulled his hand closer and kissed it and cradled it against her cheek.

Darcy closed his eyes and breathed slowly with a soft smile on his face.

He was so sure. She trusted him. Elizabeth filled with a soft love for him, and she kissed his hand again.

He opened his eyes and then brushed his fingers over her cheek with his other hand, and then he laced his fingers softly through her hair and slowly pulled her forward. Their lips met in a soft sweet kiss. "Elizabeth, will you marry me? I have said my feelings have not changed, the passage of four years did not change the allure you hold for me in any manner. My feelings are true and strong, and they cannot be changed, no matter the situation we find ourselves in."

"I will. You know I love you. I love you desperately and completely."

"We must not wait — you shall be found innocent, but there is no reason to wait for the trial. I have a special license. We can be married in two days, in this room. I will bring your sister here. Then once you are free I shall take you on a wedding tour."

"I will." The terrified part of her whispered that if they were married immediately she would know that happiness with him before they hanged her.

Something in Darcy's face suggested a similar thought was in his mind.

She kissed him.

It was a long and slow kiss that made her knees grow weak and caused her stomach to swoop and a wetness to grow in her center. They moved apart, their noses rubbing against each other.

Darcy wrapped his arms tightly around Elizabeth. "You are my heart. I adore you, ardently and passionately and rationally."

Elizabeth felt tears in her eyes. She loved him. She desperately loved him, and wanted to live with him and for them to grow old together.

They kissed again, and he kept his arms around her so tightly that her ribs felt squeezed delightfully together. Elizabeth whimpered happily.

They looked deeply into each other's eyes.

Darcy yawned.

Elizabeth giggled at his blush. "You have been awake, working to protect me all night — I love you."

He smiled a rakish smile that set off the hair falling in a wild bunch around his forehead. "You are my heart."

"You should go and sleep."

"I do not wish to leave you."

They kissed again, and they sat next to each other on the bed. Elizabeth wondered what might happen now. They had agreed to marry; they were an engaged couple. Darcy kissed her and held her tightly in his arms.

Slowly the kisses became more languid and less impassioned. Darcy's arms around her became more relaxed and he placed his head on her shoulder and closed his eyes. Almost immediately the tone of his breathing changed into a rhythmic sound that had a slight nasal snore in it.

Elizabeth closed her eyes and she drifted to sleep in Darcy's arms.

—

That afternoon, Darcy returned to Rosings to make preparations for the wedding. He sent off a messenger and money. Then he sat and revolved the problem around again and again in his mind.

He was _not_ so certain as he sounded that Elizabeth would be declared innocent by the jury. There was no other criminal he could point to. If he accused Mrs. Shore, it would be easy, but he could not.

Who _had_ killed Lady Catherine?

It was a man according to the surgeon, but that was hardly enough to answer the question. There were many men who lived at Rosings. They included the butler, the two grooms, the footmen, one of whom harbored an affection for Pamela, and his cousin Richard. That simply accounted for those who lived within the house. It was summer and Lady Catherine had been confident in the safety of her location.

While the doors were all locked, windows were kept open along the bottom floors and there had been no one awake to patrol and watch. A man from outside the house could have sneaked in.

Lady Catherine had few serious enemies outside of her family, so far as Darcy knew, but there were many people she _might_ have harmed.

Darcy talked to every male servant that night, under the pretense of seeking witnesses who might help Elizabeth. None of them gave him reason to suspect them.

The next morning Darcy walked to each of the nearby lodges and cottages, and he talked to the men there. Several farmers swore they had heard Elizabeth fleeing the house. But half of them lived in the opposite direction from that which she'd gone in. No one acted in a suspicious or scared manner. No one gave Darcy any hint that _they_ might have been the killer.

Dejected and tired again Darcy returned that afternoon to Rosings. He would ride over to speak with her this evening. Tomorrow they would marry.

The jury could make a mistake. He liked to believe it was not possible, but it _was_. That dream Elizabeth told him about, when she was hanged after he asked her to forgive him for failing her.

He would never be able to forgive himself.

This could not be allowed. If she was convicted at the trial and sentenced to hang, he would rescue her and flee to the continent. Darcy went to the sunny drawing room of Rosings and pulled the shade of the window down just enough to keep the glare of sunlight from entering his eyes.

Which letter first? The boat was most important.

 _Mr. Farrier_

 _I need you to have your yacht kept in readiness so that it can depart on a moment's notice from Ramsgate. We shall be in a hurry, and I wish you to keep the full crew aboard so that we shall be able to instantly depart for France. You may charge the full price for a day's voyage each day you remain in readiness._

 _Yours,_

 _F Darcy_

Darcy addressed the letter and set it to the side. He then wrote several letters to the owners of post stations that would keep teams of four in position so that at any time of the day or night he would have replacements for his horses available. This way he could run a carriage down the road to the nearest port at full gallop the entire way.

What else?

Darcy carefully wrote out a letter to Pemberley. He wanted more men around who he could trust and who would trust him. Mrs. Reynolds and his butler would pick those from among his tenants and servants who could be trusted to break the law for him and his wife.

Elizabeth was not guilty. The jury would find her innocent and that would be the end of it. But he would be ready if that did not actually happen.

Now that the letters were written, Darcy sent one of his men out to deliver the ones along the road to Ramsgate in person. He left with sufficient money to buy the horses and maintenance that was needed. He sent the letter to Pemberley out with an express messenger.

Darcy returned to the drawing room and stared out the window at the meadow. He leaned on his hands, pressing the wood into them. Should he ask Richard for help? At any other time it would have been obvious. His cousin was the man he would rely upon most in a dangerous scrape. But recently…

Loyalty and family. Despite the unsteadiness he had shown of late, Richard was a skilled military officer whose aid could be vital. It would rupture their friendship if he acted in this situation without calling upon Richard's aid. It would tell Richard that Darcy had not trusted him.

Darcy found him in the billiard room, and his cousin was sober. He had a deep frown upon his face, and as he ran through a series of excellent shots it was clear that Richard's mind was not upon the game. Richard had always been like that. Each time he lined up and shot there was the sharp click of the cue ball hitting its target, and then the other clicks as the balls knocked against each other.

Richard looked up and started. "I did not hear you enter. What is the issue?"

"I may need your help. I have asked you for help once already in this past week. This is the last matter in which I shall ask you for aid if you refuse me."

Richard stood straight, almost at military attention. "I was not myself that afternoon. The shock of Lady Catherine's… I shall be your man, if you require it."

"Elizabeth is innocent — do you believe me?"

"I know she is. You have some plan afoot to break Miss Bennet from the gaol if she is condemned. It is clear from the expresses you sent off over the past hours."

"The bailiff is the key. He is dedicated to the law, but I will try to bribe him, I will try to threaten him, but if I must, even though he is only doing his job, I'll shoot the bailiff through the heart. I will not leave Elizabeth there. I will _not_. But if that happens, standing beside me shall make you an accomplice."

Richard slowly put the cue stick back into the rack, leaving the remaining balls on the green felt table. "You are no killer."

"Elizabeth is innocent. I…I think of them killing her. I feel a terrible rage in my chest… My resolve is firm. I will pull the trigger if the time comes."

Richard held Darcy's gaze. "You do not know, God you do not know what you are speaking of! Darcy, if it comes to it, if such an action is needed, I will be there next to you. But swear that you will let me pull the trigger."

"You have just married. I would need to flee with Elizabeth in any case and—"

"When you speak of murder — it would be murder, you know that — that is a matter of the soul. That I would need to flee is incidental. Not of any importance next to that."

"It should be upon my soul. He wishes to _murder_ Elizabeth. If they—" Darcy clenched his jaw so tightly that he felt pain in his cheeks.

"If you wish my aid, you must swear that I shall be the one to shoot."

Darcy looked into his cousin's eye. There was firmness and resolve there. The haunted confusion was gone.

"I swear."

They shook hands.

 **AN: I am really enjoying reading the reviews guessing who did it. Way more fun to get these guesses than when I got Amazon reviews after the whole book was done.**


	22. Chapter 22

The door to Elizabeth's prison room was thrown open.

Jane rushed in and threw her arms around Elizabeth and hugged her almost as tightly as Darcy had embraced her the previous night. "I cannot believe it! I cannot! How could someone murder your patron, and then for you to be blamed for it!"

Both women held each other and cried together. Jane was as angelically beautiful as ever, and Elizabeth realized how much she had missed her sister in the months since they had met last, and even more in the two years since Jane's marriage.

"Oh, Jane! It is all going to be well now that you are here."

"And you to marry Mr. Darcy! It seems you _did_ cease to dislike him. I am so glad. He was so kind when I spoke to him before coming. I am so pleased to see you — but surely, I cannot believe you have anything to worry about. You are so good! No one could imagine that you would even think about hurting Lady Catherine."

"It is you who is so good. I did not murder her, but…I could imagine myself hurting her."

"I am here to help you dress — your Mr. Darcy went off to gather the parson once he dropped me here."

Jane went back to the door. "Come in. Come in. With the package."

Pamela entered the room holding a wrapped package that Elizabeth thought was a dress, and she looked shyly at Elizabeth before lowering her eyes. "You do not mind if I help you dress again."

Elizabeth embraced the servant. "I would have no one else do it."

"Mr. Darcy said that if you wish it… I know I do not deserve it, I brought so much trouble on you and everyone else—"

Elizabeth said with a kindly smile, "You did, but that is no matter if you learned a little."

"He said, he thought you might like…"

"Pamela, I would be delighted if you took a position with me as my Lady's maid. I have been to Pemberley and it is much nicer than Rosings."

She nodded up and down. "Thank you! Thank you! And I won't ever do anything like this again, or consort with anyone like Mr. Wickham ever again, and I promise I will never be any trouble, at all."

Elizabeth smiled. "Now do not go _too_ far."

Both of them laughed.

Jane clapped her hands. "I am delighted to meet you. Wait, we need that other parcel as well."

At Jane's knock the guard who was always there opened the door again and stood aside so Jane could walk out into the corridor. His eyes followed her as she went out of sight for a moment and returned holding a bag with lacery and hair ribbons and several pieces of jewelry.

Completely unconscious of the admiration she'd drawn, Jane smiled at Elizabeth. "It is such a joyous occasion — though an unfortunate location. I wish Henry could marry you, but he must stay to give the sermon tomorrow. Lizzy, let me look at you."

Elizabeth stood and smiled at her sister.

Jane put her hands on her hips and frankly examined Elizabeth. "Yes, yes. The dress will do splendidly. I wish I had eyes like yours!" Jane held her hand up and spun her finger in a circle.

In obedience to the command Elizabeth twirled around.

"I am so delighted to be here — I always feared I would not be able to come to your wedding; fares to travel are so dear. But your kind Mr. Darcy paid everything."

"I thought I would not marry."

"Do not be ridiculous."

The dress Jane had brought was held up so that Elizabeth could examine and admire it. It was a lovely creamy silky dress, and it nearly fit Elizabeth. They only had to use a little bit of pins and sewing to make the dress fit as it ought.

As they worked, Elizabeth and Jane exchanged gossip and stories. Elizabeth almost felt she were just a girl who was preparing to marry the man she loved — not a woman suspected of murder.

Once the dress was settled, Jane and Pamela had Elizabeth sit down. Pamela piled her hair into an elaborate arrangement.

When they finished, Jane sighed happily. "You look as beautiful as a bride should. You look just as beautiful as you always do, even without curls. I would be quite hideous."

"Jane, if anyone but you said that, I would suspect they were fishing for a compliment."

"Oops." Jane giggled. "It sounded like that. I know I am not _actually_ hideous without curls — but I cannot look my best without them, while you do."

They laughed together.

The sound of a carriage rumbling into the yard floated through the window.

Jane frowned beautifully. "I dearly hope that is not an overeager Mr. Darcy. You are not _nearly_ beautiful enough for him to see you yet."

Elizabeth laughed. "I hope it _is_ him. _He_ is always handsome enough for _me_ to look at."

Running footsteps came up the stairs and hallway. The door was opened once more, with the guard standing there, glancing in to see if he could catch a glimpse of Jane once more.

Emma rushed into the room, and she squeezed and squeezed Elizabeth. "I was so, so scared. But Mr. Darcy promises you will be fine! Forgive me; this was all my fault if only I hadn't—"

"Oh, honey, you are so brave and perfect. None of this was _your_ fault."

"I shouldn't have been angry and begged you to not leave me, if you had just stayed all night—"

"I am quite sure that if I had, fate would have conspired to protect Lady Catherine. Is Miss de Bourgh… Mrs. Fitzwilliam, treating you well?"

Jane exclaimed, "This is your pupil! She is adorable! My sister writes very much about how she adores you."

Suddenly realizing there was a stranger in the room Emma reddened and looked down and squeezed herself closer to Elizabeth in a completely pretty expression of shyness.

Elizabeth prodded Emma, "Do not be like that! This is Jane; I have told you about her so much you should feel like you know her. Now curtsey and let me introduce you."

Emma daintily walked far enough away from Elizabeth to curtsey to Jane.

Elizabeth said, "You two shall be the best of friends."

"You are _so_ pretty!"

Jane laughed at Emma's exclamation. "You are sweet."

Elizabeth touched Emma's shoulder. "But Mrs. Fitzwilliam, how does she treat you?"

"Oh! Mr. Darcy is going to be my guardian! We are all going to live together once you are free!"

Elizabeth grinned at her. "Truly? We will all live together?"

"Yes! Mr. Darcy let me be there when Meanie Annie signed the papers!"

Elizabeth reflexively said, "Don't call your cousin that." She then laughed. "Perhaps you might. She did sign you away to the first man who asked."

Emma giggled. "We shall all be a family — and Mama will be watching from heaven and we shall all be happy."

Elizabeth hugged Emma and she began weeping. "I am so happy. I fear — but no, today I shall just be happy."

Jane wiped Elizabeth's tears off. Her eyes were also shiny. "Oh, you should not do that. You will mess up your face. You do not want to look blotchy!"

Elizabeth smiled through her tears. "Nothing can ruin this day."

Some time later the carriage rolled up once more, and Darcy arrived with the parson from the village by Rosings wearing his clerical robes. Darcy's face was suffused with an expression of complete happiness when he looked at her, and Elizabeth blinked rapidly to keep the happy tears from flowing again.

"Elizabeth, here." He gave her a simple bouquet of flowers to hold, and she took them and smelled the freshly cut roses.

"Thank you. I… No matter what happens."

"Shhh. Nothing of that."

"I am so happy, so full of gratitude, so… I have such a deep, fond attachment to you. And I am already crying. Jane will be cross with me for it."

Darcy embraced her tightly and kissed her on the forehead. "I love you, and we shall look back on this day, when we are old and grey and wrinkled, and we will think on how much happiness we have felt together."

"Yes. Yes. We shall."

Colonel Fitzwilliam was with Darcy and he had a serious mien. He was to be the second witness. He gravely shook Elizabeth's hand and the grim line of his mouth did not soften. "I still am glad that we shall be related. Miss Bennet, I know that you shall make an excellent wife for my cousin."

After everyone had been introduced, the ceremony started. Elizabeth and Darcy stood in front of the parson, while the parish clerk, Pamela, Jane, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and Emma stood behind them to witness.

The vicar opened the large leather bound common prayer book, and he held it firmly in his hands. "Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here together, in the sight of God to join this man and this woman together in holy Matrimony…"

Elizabeth looked into Darcy's eyes. The words of the benediction flowed through her. Love and happiness shined from his eyes.

When the time came to exchange vows, the parson asked, "Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?"

Darcy replied in a firm voice, "I will."

"Elizabeth Bennet, wilt thou have this Man to thy wedded Husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?"

"I will."

Colonel Fitzwilliam gave Darcy the ring. He tenderly placed it upon Elizabeth's left hand. They kneeled before the parson.

The vicar spoke the prayer of marriage over them in his smooth voice. Then he took Elizabeth's right hand and joined it to Darcy's. "Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder."

—-

Darcy had brought a package of clothes with him, and he moved into the room at the top of the gaol with Elizabeth. That night and the days which followed were full of precious moments and happiness. The cloud that hung over them made each moment seem filled with meaning and beautiful to Darcy.

He would not lose Elizabeth; he would not let that happen. But he saw the fragility of life. He held Elizabeth, and laughed with Elizabeth, and talked with Elizabeth about everything. They both experienced a special intensity.

Darcy met his lawyers and the men he had called to Kent from Pemberley at the gaol or at the nearest inn, where he had taken the entire suite of upstairs rooms. But each night he returned to Elizabeth and fell asleep with his arms around her.

Emma visited Elizabeth every day, and she had been moved into the rooms at the inn Darcy had taken. Pamela kept an eye on her for most of the day, since she had no other real duties with her new mistress not being at liberty to attend any grand entertainments, or go about calling.

Two days before Elizabeth's trial, Darcy rode back to Rosings. He needed to confer with Richard, and the men he'd had brought from Pemberley were still boarded either at Rosings or at the inn in the nearest town. He had not been back to the grand house since his marriage.

It was a beautiful day, so once he'd pulled up in front of the wooden stable building, Darcy decided to look for Richard in the gardens before sending a footman after him.

Darcy found Anne instead of Richard. She sat in the garden alone for once, with a bottle of wine next to her. As Darcy watched she picked it up and took a long swallow directly from the bottle before putting it down.

That was unexpected.

Darcy smiled slightly, but he felt an edge of worry for his cousin. He did not think she would take her mother's death so hard.

Anne stood shakily to her feet. But she tripped and stumbled to her knee.

Darcy hurried forward to help her rise, but she pushed Darcy's hand away angrily. The light green cotton of her dress had torn. Anne waved her hands wildly. "Look! See! You did this too!"

Darcy blinked and shook his head. "Let me help you."

Anne wobbled from side to side. Then she steadied herself with her hand on the back of the chair. There was a wild look in her eyes. She slapped at his face, but missed and struck Darcy's chin. "How _dare_ you!"

Darcy stepped away from his cousin. "Madam, I do not know what you speak of."

"She killed my mother. How _dare_ you side against me? Against the family."

"Elizabeth did not kill your mother."

Anne shook her head side to side violently, and her wild curls flapped back and forth over her face. "She did! Everyone will see."

"Anne, let me explain the evidence. I had not realized you believed—"

"I know! What you are doing! I know _it_. You plan to break her out by force once they prove she killed my mother."

Darcy felt cold in his stomach. "I do not know what you are speaking of."

"You placed your men in _my_ lands. You asked _my_ husband to aid you! You married _my_ mother's murderer."

"Elizabeth did not kill your mother."

"Ha!"

"She could not have. The surgeon is confident a man made the blow which killed your mother."

"A man! Do you accuse yourself then?"

"I was not here."

"No! You paid someone perhaps."

"Anne!"

She sneered. "You are no real man. You could not do it."

"That would not have made me more of a man."

"Miss Bennet is more of a man than you. She butchered my mother. She ripped that gash in mother's throat!" Anne snarled. "Men! You never see what we can do! My mother proved a determined woman could do great things. A woman driven by cause enough could drive the knife clean through a woman's windpipe. That damned surgeon is a fool like you."

Darcy felt cold. A sudden idea came to him. "Did…did you do it?"

She sneered. "This is the best you can manage? I despise you. Fitzwilliam Darcy, I despise you from the base of my soul. Ha! And you accuse me of _murdering my own mother_! Get out."

"Anne—"

"I will watch your governess hang. I've never watched a hanging before. She wouldn't let me. But I have done a great many new things of late. This will be my favorite. _Get out_."

If Anne spoke against Elizabeth at the trial…the evidence still spoke against Elizabeth's guilt. It rattled in his head: _A woman driven by cause enough!_

Anne had every opportunity and motive.

Darcy walked away from Rosings in a daze. He stopped in the village and went into the common room, ignoring the crowd, and sat down at a table. The innkeeper asked if he could bring Darcy something. Darcy felt a terrible desire for alcohol to numb his stomach. He craved it.

He did not order anything and waved away the innkeeper. Darcy stared at the varnished wood of the table. One of the knots in the wood looked vaguely like a gibbet. Darcy rubbed his palm over the smoothed surface to hide the image from his sight.

 _I will watch your governess hang_.

Richard entered the room at a brisk pace and sat next to Darcy. "Where is your drink?" He called to the innkeeper. "Whisky, your best."

"Of course, my lords."

"You have Annie in a right angry state." Richard's face was a little amused. "She is throwing your valet out with all of your trunks. Not that you _were_ planning to sleep at Rosings again, but the room is gone. What did you say to her?"

"She wants to see Elizabeth hang."

Richard smiled. "Do not be ridiculous."

"No. Look at me." Darcy placed his hand on Richard's shoulder. "She is desperate to see Elizabeth proven the killer."

The innkeeper put two tumblers on the table, already filled, and a bottle of fine scotch whose painted label proclaimed that it had been aged for twenty years. Richard gulped it back like it had been brewed by a peasant distillery that was hiding from the excisemen to avoid taxes.

"Very fine. Very fine. Drink up, man! You are married: you should be drinking."

"I have never been happier."

"Neither have I." Richard laughed. "The wonder of Bacchus is that he is there for celebration as _well_ as mourning. Annie is merely jealous of Elizabeth."

"Jealous? She said she wanted to see my wife hang. She wants to see _my wife hang_. She said she would watch Elizabeth hang. Do you _understand?_ That is no _jealousy_."

"Did she?" Richard's lips stilled. "What had you said to Anne?"

"I…" Anne would tell Richard in any case. Darcy picked up the tumbler and cautiously sniffed at the whisky, before taking a small sip that he let swim in his mouth.

"Toss it back. We have the money to drink more of this than we could possibly want."

Darcy followed Richard's instructions and drank the whole glass in one deep swallow. His cousin refilled the glass.

"Anne… She was so sure a woman could make the cut which killed Lady Catherine. Like she _knew_. She said I had been a coward for not considering murder. Why would she say that if _she_ hadn't…"

"Fitzwilliam!" Darcy looked up from his contemplation of golden liquid in his glass. "You _cannot_ mean to say you suspect Anne killed—"

"Why not? She had every opportunity. She had every motive. She had more hatred of Lady Catherine than any other."

"For the love we hold for each other I will not call you out for making such a suggestion. I am entirely certain that Anne did not, and would not, and could not act in such a manner. Among other considerations, _I_ saw the wound in our aunt's throat. It was a _very_ good blow."

"Then _who_?"

"Just _drink_. It does not matter."


	23. Chapter 23

Elizabeth anxiously paced back and forth trying to force away her terror of the next day. Darcy always exuded confidence, but she could tell each day he hid more fear. Last night he had been scared. Darcy had desperately pressed into her during their lovemaking, and then he'd held her tightly and whispered into her ear, "I _swear_ they will not have you."

That had not reassured her. The uneasiness curdled in her body, like a worm eating through her stomach. Her husband was scared. She was scared.

 _I don't want to die. I don't want to die._

Her desperate plea repeated in her mind to the drumbeat coming up the road.

Drumbeat?

Elizabeth looked out of her room at the dusty road bordered by trees that stretched away towards the seacoast ten miles distant.

A column of soldiers marched up the road. Two abreast, red coated with wide handsome white belts. The sound of the drum drifted softly through the open windows along with the smell of flowers. It was a group of forty or fifty men.

An officer on horseback led them. He had a handsome bearing and his cap was cocked at a jaunty angle. Elizabeth smiled at the distraction the troops caused. She remembered when the regiment of the militia had marched into Meryton. Despite the trouble they had caused her family, a man looked very well in uniform.

The column marched up to the prison and the officer slowed his horse and looked up at her. Their eyes met. He scowled and looked away. With his arms, the officer ordered several men to run out of the column and stand along the side of the building. Then he rode around to the front entrance of the prison and out of Elizabeth's sight as the rest of the men followed. The door below was loudly thrown open. Dozens of footsteps sounded beneath her, and a rising hum of chatter.

Elizabeth's throat was tight.

What was happening?

No one came to her room for a half hour. The soldiers posted outside watched the woods and down the road, shifting from side to side and leaning on their tall muskets.

Darcy would be here soon, and she feared for him. The sun was growing dimmer. Elizabeth rang the bell so she could call the maid to ask her what was afoot. She knew in her gut that it was about her.

The maid brought the bailiff and the young officer. He had an aristocratic face with a long firm nose and thinly pressed scowling lips.

Elizabeth adopted a light voice, but it was thin and tinny, and she could hear the falsity of her calmness. "I do wonder what all of these soldiers are doing here. You did not need to come; I just am curious."

The bailiff said, "They are here to protect _you_."

"Protect me?" Elizabeth raised her eyes and smiled as though the statement was absurd. She felt her knees weaken.

The bailiff stammered, "That is not _quite_ correct — there is a report certain people will try to remove you by force from the prison if the verdict tomorrow goes against you."

"You mean my husband." Elizabeth's voice sounded odd in her ears.

"Yes, Mrs. Darcy."

Darcy believed she would be found guilty. He'd meant last night that he would break the law for her. But they had found out, and he would fail and be killed if he tried.

She was going to die.

In two days they would hang her.

She had known too much happiness to be hanged _now_. What would Emma do?

"Darcy — you must send for my husband, I must speak to him."

She needed to convince him not to try. He needed to live on.

 _No. No. No._ _I don't want to die_.

The bailiff shook his head. "I am sorry, Mrs. Darcy."

"Please. _Please_. Let me see him. Just for a minute. Just let me."

"Mrs. Darcy, we cannot allow him in here. He may be spying out the positions, or engaged in some plan to rescue you. It cannot be allowed."

"But… No. _No_. Not that. I was to see him again. You must let me see him. I need him to promise me… I need him."

"This is the scheming murderess?" The officer snapped with a sneer. "Do not believe her tears. She is a right pretty girl to be hanged. But with such a black heart. Madam, your husband is as much a criminal as you are. If I had my will, we'd throw him in the gaol with you for conspiracy. But such things are not in my control. Alas, so much is not. But this is: He'll not scheme with you again."

"I _must_ see him. He might do something — I only want to see him. If you are going to hang me… I just need to see him."

"I know your character. You have no concern for that fool. Do not pretend it." A soldier was behind them. The officer pointed into the room. "Seize all her lamps and candles and board up the window. We must ensure she cannot pass messages by signal."


	24. Chapter 24

**AN: Guys, I am really, really loving those guessing reviews. Also, a rather too late, to be honest, excessive angst warning. It is one of those things, figuring out the balance for these stories, and while awesome and dramatic, I perhaps made things a little too rough for ODC here near the end - or at least a lot of the Amazon reviews thought so when I first published it... but have heart, there is only a couple more chapters before we are through the darkest parts. _Also_ a second and last mentioning of this I did just publish a very silly short story on Amazon titled _Mr. Bennet's Illness: A Farce_ , that you can check out if the horrible things happening are too much for you.**

Darcy had decided to walk back to the prison when he finished a last meeting with his lawyer.

His nerves had worsened. He knew what his lawyer said. He knew the evidence. He _knew_ Elizabeth was innocent. He knew the witnesses would confirm it.

But he was scared. Anne _might_ make things difficult.

One more night with Elizabeth in that room. The next day one way or another she would be freed. It had been difficult the previous night to hide his fear from Elizabeth, but he would not let her feel it. She bravely faced the next day, but Darcy knew his wife well enough to see that she was so scared as well.

Darcy's thoughts came to a sick thudding stop when he turned the corner to the gaol. A dozen red coated soldiers stood or sat around the building. All of the windows blazed with light. Except for Elizabeth's which was black.

Darcy slowly walked across the yard towards the now familiar entrance to the prison.

"Halt!" a young soldier shouted at Darcy. "Who are you? What business have you here?"

Darcy stared at the young man. How many were there? Did he have any chance of taking them by force? Would the people he had brought together even help him to attack a group of trained soldiers?

"What is your business here? Off with you. This area is banned."

"I am Fitzwilliam Darcy. Call the bailiff here. I must speak with him — my wife is within."

Instead of the bailiff a young officer trotted out of the building and up to the sentry. He had an arrogant mocking tilt to his head. "So you are that man." He turned to the two men standing next to the door. "Keep your weapons trained on him. The rest of you look sharp to make sure no one approaches from any side. You shan't see her again until the trial tomorrow. Though if you want to try, I'll gleefully end you."

Darcy felt sick inside at the realization that he would not be able to rescue Elizabeth from the hangman's noose if she was convicted. The two young men pointed their wavering muskets at him. The officer smiled coldly and walked back into the gaol.

The bailiff came out and walked up to Darcy.

"What is the meaning of this? Who are these men?"

He shook his head, sadly.

"Tell me!"

"Mr. Darcy. You know I am an officer of the law. I…I suppose I am not surprised. I should have considered that a man like you would take such an action."

"What are you talking about?"

He stamped his feet and looked to the side. "I have received a report that there is a plan to rescue one of the prisoners afoot, should she be convicted by the jury tomorrow." He then looked at Darcy. "I thought you truly believed in her innocence."

"What has that to do with anything?"

"If you truly believed she was innocent, you would have seen no need to make such preparations to undercut the law. I am sworn to uphold the laws of this kingdom. When I heard about these plans, I called in a company of regulars. There are forty men here, trained soldiers. We shall be ready for you. Justice will be done."

"Who! Where did you get this information! Where?"

"I cannot tell you that."

A sudden image came to Darcy's mind. His cousin Anne exclaiming, "I shall watch her hang." His stomach ran cold. She had said she knew his preparations. He had not thought to hide them from his _family_. "Anne. Mrs. Fitzwilliam. My _cousin_ sent you a message."

The way the bailiff flinched before he stammered that he could give no information was enough.

Darcy's face went both hot and cold. He felt a terrifying rage.

"May I go in and see my wife at least?"

The bailiff shook his head. "The lieutenant absolutely insists you shall not be allowed near the prisoner again. He thinks you could be spying on their preparations, or have some other game."

"In other words, if they hang her, I shall not be allowed to kiss my wife goodbye. I will… I am glad to know England's laws are defended by such a man as you."

Darcy turned furiously.

The fury grew as he raged towards Rosings.

Anne and Richard sat at the dinner table with their elbows on the table and holding hands. The next moments were a blur. Darcy had thrown the table on its side, the dishes breaking as they flew against the floor in a massive clatter. "If they murder her, I will kill you."

He then had a fragment of memory before he was pressed into a chair by two footmen while Richard rubbed his hand. Darcy could not feel where he had been punched yet, even though it had been hard enough to knock him over.

Darcy gasped for breath, unable to speak. Richard incoherently demanded an explanation. Anne looked at him with knowing eyes as she stood.

Anne said calmly, "I made arrangements to ensure my mother's murderer would receive her punishment. Darcy has collected men so that he could remove her by force after the trial goes against our little governess. I will see justice for my mother's death. I informed the bailiff, and I understand he has collected a company of soldiers to ensure the hanging is carried out."

"Anne. How…how could you?" Richard had turned sheet white.

"It was my mother! I need to see some punishment! I may have hated her, but she was my mother!"

"Impressive act." Darcy spat on the ground. "A fine bit of theater."

Richard looked between them. "You saw the men. Darcy, how many are there?"

"At least ten were outside the building. The bailiff said a full company. There is no hope. None—"

"Good god! Anne, she is Darcy's wife. She—"

"I'll see the murderess hanged!"

Darcy spat on the ground again. "Anne did it. Your wife killed her mother. I always wanted to see her show some spirit, and she at last showed it. A fine bride you have for yourself."

Anne turned away, her color high.

"Do not worry though. She will not be your wife for long. I swear, I may be a gentleman, but you are no woman. If they kill my wife, I'll kill you. Your mother's murder will _not_ go unpunished."

Richard held his hand held over his mouth.

Anne gestured to one of the footmen. "Take him away. He is never again to be given admission to this house."

Darcy did not struggle, but instead calmly walked out. He did not attempt to free himself from the servant's grasp until he was deposited on the front porch.

He looked at the red sun in the distance, the clouds gathering above, and the wide open park around Rosings, with the trees Elizabeth loved so bedecked heavily with green. He walked back towards the gaol. He would stay as close to Elizabeth tonight as they allowed him.

Darcy walked all night around the building in great winding circles, unable to sleep in the slightest. Even though he knew that the trial was still to come, and even though he knew the jury might realize the weakness of the evidence against Elizabeth, he still felt as though he'd heard her death knell in Anne's action to protect herself.

Would he actually be able to kill his cousin?

When they hanged Elizabeth, he would.


	25. Chapter 25

Because the window had been boarded up so efficiently, Elizabeth had seen no light even after the sun rose. She flinched from the brightness when she was brought downstairs and helped by the bailiff into the carriage that would bring her to the building where the assize court was held.

She unresistingly did everything she was told. She was too numb to cry, or to think, or even to feel. The road had an odd wavering aspect in her eyes. It was odd. She could not feel the seat beneath her unless she concentrated on it.

What would death feel like?

The journey ended.

Elizabeth was pulled from the carriage. She smelled the town. Fish and meat from the markets. Roasted meat fragrantly floated from the cooking stalls. There was an undertone of human waste, perfumes, dust. Elizabeth was pushed into a large structure with a façade of marble columns, built to look like those famous buildings of the Romans.

Pamela had not been allowed to come to her that morning, but she had done her best job to make herself look demure and quiet. The opposite of a woman who would murder Lady Catherine. As she was marched into the courtroom, Elizabeth's feet pinched strangely, and her balance was awkward. She looked down and saw that she had put her light summer slippers on the wrong feet. Elizabeth paused, wanting to switch them.

The officer who guarded her with a knot of eight soldiers, looked back at the slowing and then grabbed her arm and roughly pulled her up the stairs of the courthouse. "None of your games. You'll see justice today."

Elizabeth stumbled along with him. Her arm hurt. The bailiff protested. "Mrs. Darcy is a gentlewoman."

The officer ignored this.

As she was marched into the courtroom, Elizabeth saw that a large crowd had packed all of the open seats in the building.

Darcy.

He was at the front of the room. Their eyes met. His eyes were red, as though he'd been crying, or as if he had not slept. There were large bags under his eyes. He looked terrible.

She wanted to shout to him some warning to not take any desperate actions. But she couldn't. She tried to speak to him through her eyes, but she was pulled away and pushed into the seat for the accused.

Elizabeth turned her eyes back towards Darcy. He stared at her desperately, but she could not read his thoughts.

As the justice of the peace, Mr. Hawdry had chosen to serve as the prosecutor for the crown. Once Elizabeth was pushed into the chair, he stood and looked at the jurors so that he could open the case. "We are here to see justice done. To see that woman _hang_ for the murder of our dearest friend, Lady Catherine de Bourgh."

"Incorrect. Incorrect." The barrister that Darcy had hired stood from where he was seated next to Darcy. "This is prejudicial. It is the place of the prosecution merely to place the facts the crown has gathered against Mrs. Darcy. It is the jury's duty to assess whether these facts suggest that she is in fact guilty of the profound sin _claimed_ against her."

The judge sighed. "Mr. Hawdry, you wished to lead the prosecution, so you must follow the rules established for the proceeding. Mr. Godfrey is correct. Just state the facts."

Hawdry looked rattled. Elizabeth knew he was not used to having his position questioned.

She remembered how certain Darcy had been that she would be acquitted. But when she looked at his paleness, and saw the tremor in his hand when he brought it to his coat to smooth the fabric down the line of his arm, she knew she would hang.

 _I don't want to die. I don't want to die_.

The only question was how Hawdry would convince the jury to ignore the truth and the words of Mr. Godfrey.

Hawdry said, "I saw this woman, Miss Elizabeth, show flashes of rage in her eyes when her patron, when the woman who had given her _everything,_ when our dear friend Lady Catherine gave her a fitting order. Then as the witnesses will tell you, the next day she entered a physical fight with Lady Catherine, in which she wrenched away with violent force the cane used by that sainted elderly lady to support herself. These are the simple facts of the case. Lady Catherine had ordered her to leave the premises, and she maligned Lady Catherine to the staff who were witness to the confrontation. This will be established by the witnesses. The next day after Lady Catherine was found murdered, she had disappeared from the house with the child in her care, leaving behind a bloody garment. These are the simple facts, and they have an equally simple explanation."

Elizabeth didn't look at Mr. Hawdry at all. In fact she barely heard the damning argument. She watched Darcy intently stare at Mr. Hawdry. The lawyer next to him calmly listened, and every so often he jotted down a note in pencil on a pad he had next to him.

Mr. Hawdry continued, "There also are facts of motivation which will be established. This woman has since her arrest changed her name to one of the most illustrious in the land. She has married the nephew of Lady Catherine. This scheming woman made such a connection, made such a second victim. The former Miss Bennet knew that Lady Catherine would prevent any such marriage, and that her death was necessary to fulfill her wish of becoming one of the wealthiest women in the land."

Mr. Hawdry put his hand on the table in front of him and leaned forward, like an overweight raptor. "Look at me, men of the jury. We are all citizens of this county. We knew the good name of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. We felt her goodness and ceaseless activity on our behalf. We loved her. We know what is right in this land. We do not need a lawyer hired by the money Miss Bennet killed to acquire to tell us what is inadmissible."

"That is quite inadmissible. It is irrelevant to the case." Mr. Godfrey stood up with a sarcastic smile. "It also, I think, is an admission that Mr. Hawdry knows he cannot prove the guilt of Mrs. Darcy."

Hawdry pointed at Godfrey. "He is paid for by Darcy's money. Darcy intends to subvert the justice of the crown by stealing Mrs. Darcy from the prison by force, if you act to see justice is done. Do not listen to anything he says."

The judge angrily said, "Sit down, Mr. Hawdry. You have stated your case. Mr. Godfrey is quite right that your love for _that_ dead woman has nothing to do with the question of whether Mrs. Darcy is guilty of her murder. _That_ is the question you are here to establish."

Elizabeth looked at the jurors. They looked serious and the one who caught her eye frowned and looked away.

Her palms were cold and sweaty.

"Call the prisoner forward as the first witness."

Elizabeth was brought to the dais. She was made to swear an oath to tell the full truth. Then she was asked, "Tell us what caused the quarrel with Lady Catherine."

Elizabeth had been coached by Mr. Godfrey, and she replied the way she'd been told to. "Lady Catherine had struck at my pupil Emma Williams. I stepped between Lady Catherine and Emma, and Lady Catherine swung her cane at me and struck me upon the arm. When she drew back to strike me again, I grabbed the cane and refused to let her strike me again. She then dismissed me."

Mr. Hawdry said, "Was it not Lady Catherine's right to discipline her ward as she saw fit?"

"I feared she would do serious harm to the child. Emma is dear to me."

"You care nothing for her, and merely hoped to attach the girl's affections so that you might profit when she came of age, and she gained control of her fortune."

Mr. Godfrey said with his perpetual sarcastic frown, "I really believe the prosecutor should not make such statements unless he has evidence. I will bring a collection of witnesses as to Miss Bennet's good character, and who can testify to her sincere attachment to Miss Williams."

Hawdry said, "You all know not to listen to him."

Elizabeth's eyes looked towards the jurors.

Hawdry and Mr. Godfrey alternated. They asked Elizabeth a series of questions. During the questioning Anne entered the courtroom. Elizabeth only saw her from the corner of her eye.

The questioning continued.

Elizabeth's numbness had worn off. Her heart pounded and she shook. She knew she must look exactly like a woman guilty of murder and frightened of the punishment would. She did not look like a woman confident of her own innocence and the laws of England.

 _I don't want to die_.

Sweat soaked through Elizabeth's dress leaving her chilled like she had run through a thunderstorm.

After a while, the judge asked, "Are there any further questions for the witness?"

Hawdry then turned back to Elizabeth and pulled a piece of paper from his coat. The paper looked vaguely familiar, like the stationary she used. He asked Elizabeth while holding the paper carefully in his left hand, "Is it true — remember you are under oath — is it true that you wished Lady Catherine to die?"

Mr. Godfrey stood up. "That question is inadmissible. It is well established that a defendant need not answer such a question. The answer in any case is irrelevant. There is a huge distance between antagonism betwixt two people, even serious antagonism, and a willingness to engage in such a foul crime." Godfrey looked between Elizabeth and the jury. "One can see in the physiognomy whether a person has such a character."

"I only wished her to answer to show the jury her perfidy. I have a letter written by the accused to her sister." Hawdry waved the paper he had pulled from his pocket. The bottom half of the sheet was black from an ink spill. "This letter was left behind in her room when she fled Rosings. It says—" Hawdry pulled the letter in front of his face and squinted for half a minute. He mumbled agitatedly under his breath. At last he made a tiny exclamation of victory and read, " _If only Lady Catherine would conveniently die, like a character in a novel whose death allows everyone to become happy._ "

Elizabeth remembered writing that. She had been writing to Jane to help herself think through what to do to protect Emma. She looked towards the jury, but then she flinched away, and she could not look again.

Mr. Godfrey said something else, but Elizabeth could not hear anything over the rushing pounding in her ears. She looked towards Darcy, but he had his hand on the table in front of him. He had noticed Anne and he frowned at her. She pulled a paper from her reticule and squeezed it between her hands.

Elizabeth wanted to stand and scream. She hadn't done it. It was unfair. She was innocent.

Mr. Hawdry spoke something to Elizabeth. She looked at him and realized she was beginning to panic. The world seemed far away and there was rushing in her ears. The edges of her vision were black. She should at least face the end of this trial with dignity.

"I d-d-did not hear you."

"I am done with questioning you. Return to your bench."

Elizabeth tried to stand up, but she stumbled against her chair. Darcy stood up and tried to get around the table to help her, but the soldiers who had brought her to the courtroom stopped him. A soldier put out his arm and helped her back to her seat. She was unable to feel her feet.

While she sat back down, Anne walked up to the dais. The woman spoke in a wavering voice, "I...I h-have something which must be spoken. Before…before you judge. It must be said."

"This is most irregular." The judge frowned. "Who are you?"

Anne stared at the judge for a long time without saying anything. Mr. Hawdry spoke for her. "She is Lady Catherine's only child. But she has been most disobedient to her ladyship's wishes. She should not be allowed to speak anything."

Elizabeth felt dreamy, as though she'd been struck in the head hard, and nothing seemed quite right. She would swear those were tears on Anne's cheeks. How odd.

Elizabeth turned her eyes to Darcy. She did not know how many more minutes she would be able to see her husband. There could only be a few dozen. He stared at Anne with his hands forming claws. There was a tension in his posture, as though he was consciously holding himself in place instead of throwing himself out of his chair to attack Anne.

Anne's voice quavered out, barely audible to Elizabeth. "I know — I know who did it."

Something in Darcy's expression changed.

The judge said, "What do you mean?"

"It was not…not Miss Bennet…Mrs. Darcy. Someone else killed my mother."

Elizabeth heard what she said. Darcy's hand had curled into a fist and he smiled.

Anne stared at the ground, and she started crying.

The judge said, "This is an extraordinary statement. Who do you believe did it, and what proof do you have."

"It…it was my husband. He… last night, he told me. He made his confession. It was my husband who killed my mother."

Hawdry exclaimed in a shocked voice, "Colonel Fitzwilliam! I do not believe it. Where is he?"

Anne cried out, "He has fled. He already has boarded a boat to the continent."

There were gasps and whispers among the jury and the crowd watching the trial. It was like a cold splash of water that snapped Elizabeth out of her numbness.

Colonel Fitzwilliam!

She wasn't going to die.

Elizabeth realized tears were streaming down her face.

"No. No. This is another lie. Another trick employed by Mr. Darcy." Mr. Hawdry looked at the jury. "You all have heard the evidence before this. Colonel Fitzwilliam has only been convinced by his cousin to make this confession and flee so that Mrs. Darcy would escape her proper punishment."

" _Do you think I am such a fool!_ " Anne shrieked at him. "He _killed_ her. And then the next day he married me! I _know_! You aren't serving my mother's memory, you…you—" She stuck forward towards the judge the paper she had crumpled in her hand. "He…he wrote his confession here. He wished to have all of the evidence clear so there could be no doubt."

The judge held his hand out.

Anne looked at him without moving. Then she tottered unsteadily towards the dais on which the judge sat and extended her arm, holding the creamy piece of paper shakily out.

The judge reached forward and took the paper. He put on spectacles. There was another long pause when he held the paper out, and then pulled it in and looked at it closely. "I, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam of the — regiment, write this to inform the court that Elizabeth Darcy is innocent against the charge against her. I murdered my aunt. I used my service knife, which I have left behind. The surgeon likely can confirm that her wounds match the weapon. It has been two weeks, and the body is probably too decayed for more. Lady Catherine had become a tyrant. She intended to use her position to murder a servant who she knew was innocent of the crime she was accused of. Then she made, in my hearing, threats against the life of a child under her guardianship. Further she had acted to destroy the happiness of many other people. There was no action within the law that could stop her. But as a gentleman it was my duty to act to protect the innocent. I did so. Any letter sent to the notary Mr. Picard in Calais will reach me if you wish me to answer further questions."

The judge finished and took off his spectacles.

Mr. Hawdry said, "I do not believe it. Do not believe it. The scion of such a great family as the Fitzwilliams would not murder a woman. He has been paid by his cousin to lie for this woman who enthralled him."

Agonizing fear ran up and down Elizabeth's spine. Would the jurors believe that?

"Enough, Mr. Hawdry. We know your view of the matter. I think all that needed to be said to the jury has been." The judge waved his hand. "Remember, you have been empaneled by the authority of the king to look for the truth and to assess the evidence."

Elizabeth's heart squeezed as she waited. Any hope of calmly accepting her fate was gone. She desperately wanted to live.

Her pulse beat faster and faster. Black spots began to swim in front of her again. Darcy looked at her intently, and after an agonizing moment when their eyes met, she looked down. She couldn't look at him again until she knew if she would be killed.

The jury went to the side and talked to each other. Elizabeth lost track of the time as she stared at them. Had they been talking for one minute or twenty? She was not sure. They would only take this long if they were going to declare her guilty.

The jurors shook hands and walked back to the dais, smiling slightly. Their leader walked up to the judge. He had grey distinguished hair and large neatly cropped sideburns. "We find the defendant not guilty."

Elizabeth did not understand what she had heard. The word guilty sat in her ears, overpowering the _not_.

But she was not sure. She could not move.

Darcy leapt over the chairs between them, and took her up in his arms, holding her aloft and kissing her. The soldiers did not stop him this time.

Elizabeth realized. She squeezed herself against him, the tightness of her hold proving she was alive. She sobbed hysterically. "I was sure. I was sure that no matter what I said…that there was too much hope of happiness and…"

"Shhhh, Lizzy, shhhh. We are well. It is over."

She wanted to say how much she loved him, but she couldn't through the tears. His fingers running through her hair felt so safe and soothing as she gasped out long shuddering sobs.

Not guilty.

Darcy clenched her tightly against him. Tears ran down his cheeks and onto her hair. He whispered again and again words of love and relief.

Elizabeth concentrated everything on his voice, and his smell, and the tightness with which she was held, and the way his tears streaked down her forehead and mixed with her tears running down her cheeks. Everyone around them was talking but they ignored them all.

At long last Elizabeth choked out what she most wished to say, "Can we go home? To Pemberley?"


	26. Chapter 26

Darcy held Elizabeth's hand — his wife's hand! — as their carriage took them across the short distance between his townhouse and the house owned by Richard's older brother, the Earl of Matlock. Sometimes he simply gazed at her in amazement that it had happened. That she was his wife, and that they would live together for the rest of their days.

He squeezed her hand tighter and kissed her cheek and whispered, "You will charm everyone."

Georgiana sat on the other side of the carriage. She squealed, "Again! You are both so picturesque and pretty! The _portrait_ of a couple!"

Darcy embarrassedly sat straighter. He'd forgotten, again, that Georgiana was present.

Elizabeth pulled Darcy's hand back to her and cradled it against her stomach. "Georgie, I have seen how you and Andrew touch each other when you believe no one is watching." Lord Chancey had taken to Elizabeth immediately, and he'd insisted Elizabeth use his Christian name. Darcy would have found this more reassuring if he and Georgiana had not also decided to invite George Wickham to their wedding.

Georgiana sighed and her eyes went distant. "Two more weeks."

Darcy shuddered. He knew exactly what an amorous young couple would spend their honeymoon doing. He and Elizabeth had quite embarrassed themselves by inventing a silly excuse to leave the family party in the middle of the afternoon yesterday.

No one had argued with them, though they all knew what they were going off to do. When they made love, Elizabeth's eyes had been wide open, and her mouth screwed up with desire. The feel of her legs and her warm curves as his hands explored her body. The way it felt _right_ to be pressed against her.

Elizabeth nudged him and whispered into his ear, "I know what _you_ are thinking."

The carriage rolled to a stop, and Georgiana lightly leaped out without waiting for Darcy or a footman to help her. Elizabeth and Darcy followed.

They all looked up at the familiar marble columns of the façade of the building. Elizabeth calmly studied the building and then turned to Darcy. "At least it is grand."

Georgiana said, "It is strange to be coming here to meet Charles instead of Richard. That he killed our aunt…it is so odd."

They rang the door. Darcy wondered how Matlock would treat him.

He had always been far closer to Richard than to Charles, who was ten years older than them both. The butler opened the door and led them to the drawing room. Their boots squeaked on the marble floors. The house was full of the scent of the flowers that Charles's wife layered everywhere around the London house whenever she was obliged to be in London after the season ended.

The Matlock townhouse was in a district that had been the most fashionable decades before, but which now was more deeply in the city.

Charles Fitzwilliam, Lord Matlock, was a mid-sized man of about forty, whose head had gone completely bald. He was no more handsome than his brother, and he lacked much of Richard's charm, but he had instead the allure that possession of an earldom and a handsome fortune gave. His wife sat behind him, a tall faded woman who always wore extravagant pearl necklaces. Both of them wore black to signify mourning for Lady Catherine.

Neither Darcy, Elizabeth nor Georgiana made any pretense of mourning.

Properly Georgiana's marriage should be delayed, but she and Lord Chancey had no intention of doing so. And the three of them wore bright summer colors and light cottons. It was shocking to society's opinion, but Darcy did not care. Elizabeth had been on trial for murder, and he still shivered when he remembered that day, and Hawdry pulling out that letter. Appeasing the customs of the crowd seemed… unimportant now.

Charles and Darcy looked at each other for a long time. Then in a convulsive movement they embraced. Charles exclaimed, "Richard! Poor Richard."

Darcy felt a dark cloud in his mind every time he thought of it.

"Did you have any notion he had done it? I mean before he sent Anne to deliver the message."

"No. I still… I still hardly believe it."

"I can believe it. Richard always had that in him."

Darcy shook his head. He remembered Richard's dark moods. Maybe he _did_ have it in him.

"What I can hardly believe is that _you_ would marry at all. Let alone to a governess." Charles laughed and studied Elizabeth who stood straighter. "I hope you shall be an asset to the family. The story is the worst scandal we've faced ever. If only Richard had not decided to off our aunt — the deuce is I cannot blame him. He had to if he was ever going to marry Anne."

Elizabeth said in a sweet yet firm tone, "I shall strive to be an excellent _wife_."

Darcy shook his head. "That is not why Richard…that is not why it was done. I had already told both Richard and Anne that I would not marry her."

Lady Matlock stood and came to stand behind her husband. "Truly. That is not a story?"

Darcy peered at his cousin's wife. "A story? That would do what?"

"Make you look better in Mrs. Darcy's eyes. Make it seem less likely she would have done the deed herself…"

Darcy sharply stepped away from his cousin. His face hardened, and he felt a twitch in his hand. He would not stand for such suggestions from anyone. That Lady Matlock was a gentlewoman no longer had any bearing on him. He knew _now_ that gentlewomen had an equality with gentlemen in their potential for viciousness.

Elizabeth laid her hand on his arm. "I know people will always wonder. As soon as Hawdry refused to speak to us after my acquittal, I knew he still believed his story, and if he did, others would."

"The deuce!" Charles looked at his wife. "Is that what you mean to suggest?"

The woman looked at Elizabeth. "Better a murderess for a cousin than a murderer for a brother."

Elizabeth replied coldly. "I have a sister who behaved in a profoundly disgraceful manner, and I cannot argue with your preference."

"Richard did it!" Charles stamped his foot. "Always knew he had it in him to do something like it. It is a lucky thing for England that he was not the heir. I would not have been nearly so creditable as an officer. An unfortunate matter for Lady Catherine."

Darcy said quietly, "You have no doubt then that Richard did it?"

"And what do _you_ mean to suggest." Charles shook his head in bemusement. "You are the last man in the world who would want to place doubt upon Richard's guilt."

Elizabeth looked at Darcy sideways. They had argued about this on the carriage ride back to the inn after they went to Rosings to speak to Anne, and learned that she had already left for the continent.

"What if…what if he was trying to protect a woman? But not my wife, his."

"You think _Anne_ killed her mother."

"She hated her enough."

"I read the report of that trial, and the letter you sent me detailing the evidence. No gentlewoman could have made that cut."

"Anne was certain a gentlewoman could."

"Anne!" Charles laughed. "That girl never did _anything_ but sit and stare out windows. Maybe she occasionally stared at paintings. No. I shall not believe it."

Darcy growled. "Anne was quite capable of doing other things."

"So you believe that she killed her mother, and then my brother determined to confess to the crime to spare your wife being punished for his wife's crime. However, he fled so the end result is that no one was punished?"

"Richard cannot return to England."

"Darcy, you are talking damned nonsense. My brother would have told me. Instead the letter he sent me made it quite clear that he had done it, and why. He had had enough of Lady Catherine, and he believed she might kill Mrs. Darcy's ward."

Elizabeth said, "That is why I fled with Emma."

"Damned bad piece of luck for all involved. If you hadn't, they would have blamed the matter on the cook. Wasn't she related to that maid Lady Catherine was trying for theft?"

Lady Fitzwilliam said, "Is it true you intend to raise the illegitimate girl as your own? There is no reason not to send her to Anne—"

"Emma shall be our daughter." Darcy spoke sharply. "Anyone who will refuse to recognize her, will receive no recognition from me."

Charles elbowed his wife. "You are not going to get Darcy to bend. You should know that by _now_. Solid as a rock he is. I certainly won't cut her if she is a well behaved, pretty thing when she comes out."

"I do not ask for more."

"Georgie." Charles took Darcy's sister by the shoulders and looked at her. "You look more like Aunt Anne every month. Your mother was a beautiful woman. I don't know what to think about you ignoring Lady Catherine's death, the scandal, and every other matter to marry immediately, but I do say, you'll have more people talking about you than you would otherwise."

"We are trying to occasion as much gossip and talk as possible. Chancey delights in it."

Everyone laughed at Georgiana's dry expression. Charles expressed what Darcy had been thinking, "Are you really the shy little thing who just four years ago could not look anyone in the eye?"

Despite Lady Matlock's clear unhappiness with both being forced to accept Elizabeth and Emma, the family party remained pleasant for the rest of the visit.

It was a little past noon when they left. Georgiana exclaimed, "Now you have fled me long enough, Lizzy. But it is time that I make sure you are dressed properly! My wedding _is_ only in a few weeks."

Elizabeth smiled while at the same time trying to look frightened. "I do not know where you gained the idea I have any opposition to shopping. I simply have been busy…" Elizabeth blushed.

Georgiana raised her eyebrows and then looked expressively at Darcy.

He blushed too.

"You shall have enough time for…things, later. If you want to have a proper dress made to wear to my wedding — and I wish you to have one — you need to order it _today_. You shall meet so many people, and you must look your very best. Your brilliance will add to my own, and you need to look handsome enough to match my brother—"

"That shall be difficult." Elizabeth winked at Darcy and briefly put her hand on his leg and squeezed.

Georgiana groaned. "No! Not in front of me." She then giggled. "Not again!"

The carriage was directed to Bond Street, and when it arrived Georgiana dragged Elizabeth into the shop of her favorite dressmaker. The carriage needed to remain with the women, so that it could carry their purchases back to Darcy's house.

Darcy knew his sister wished to have some time alone with _her_ new sister. So he laughed with Elizabeth for several minutes and then strolled down the street. After ten minutes he found himself at the club he and Richard both had a membership at. They would meet here when both were in London. Bingley frequented it as well.

Darcy stared at the door a long time. He felt a deep antipathy to entering it. To seeing Bingley, who had begun to simply avoid his wife. To seeing the room where he would never meet Richard again. The building was full of the familiar smells of leather seats and fine whisky. There was sometimes the sound of a low violin playing, or the shaking of dice and the clinking of glasses. A healthy tall gentleman left the door, fitting his top hat more neatly as he walked out, and then inclining his head quickly to Darcy as he passed.

Standing here made it clearer than ever how much he owed to Elizabeth.

He was completely, and undeservingly, happy.

 **AN: So there are a total of 4 more shortish chapters after this. The bad news is that while I made an effort, I don't think in retrospect the end of the book is nearly fluffy enough to make up for the trial. If I ever write a scene like that again, instead of wracking my brains for what are the plot threads to finish, I'm going to wrack my brains for are the most sugary, diabetic, teeth decaying scenes I can come up with.**

 **As for the other big issue: Who did it?**

 **The discussion between Darcy and Colonel Fitwilliam's brother during this chapter is the last I wrote about the murder. I had in mind while I wrote the story a particular character who was the murderer, but as a literary experiment I decided to leave the text of the book ambiguous, so that the audience of the book could not be more certain than the PoV characters were about whether it was Anne or Richard.**

 **I find it rather cool that already in the last chapter there was a lot of division among the audience with half the people being 'oh, so it was Richard, I thought it was', and half the people who left reviews, or at least a third of them, writing "I still think it was Anne." And that was before Darcy expresses in this chapter his belief that it was Anne, while everyone else disagrees with him.**

 **In the author's note at the bottom of the next chapter I will tell you which one was the murderer in my head while I wrote the book. To be honest, I think leaving the big question in the novel ambiguous was a mistake - or not exactly a mistake, since it is a good thing for an author to try different and weird things, but I do not think it made the book better than it would have been if it was very clear who was the murderer in a way that nobody could question. I'm loving the discussion of the question in these reviews, so everyone: what did you think about this chapter?**


	27. Chapter 27

"You do not need to worry about me being a large silent object. I am fully prepared to greet your mother with every show of happiness. No matter what she says. We each have relatives we blush over."

Elizabeth grinned up at Darcy. "I admit my mother could not _possibly_ give us so much to blush over as your aunt."

He wished to cheer Elizabeth before they arrived at the tiny house on the edge of London where Mrs. Bennet and her now impoverished uncle and aunt lived. She had not been in a hurry to see her mother again, and she had not been in a hurry to bring him to see her impoverished relatives.

Elizabeth poked him. "I recognize that look. You are feeling guilty about what you said about my family all those years ago again. Stop it. Pay attention to me."

She stuck her tongue out at him and winked at Emma, who was in the carriage so that she could meet Elizabeth's cousins and niece.

Emma giggled. "You are wonderful so your Mama must be wonderful too."

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. "That is a fallacious belief."

"Everyone I've met who was nice had a nice mother." Emma added with a cute smirk, "My mother was very nice."

Darcy smiled at the interplay between the two. The streets in this part of town were poorly maintained and pitted, but at least they were not in the really ugly areas where workmen lived and trash piled up endlessly and there was a suffocating smell from open cesspits.

The carriage pulled to a stop in front of a three story building with a locked gate and bars on the lower windows. There were no trees or gardens along the street, but little weeds and plants sneaked their way around edges of cobblestones and through cracks. The buildings around were edged with peeling paint and crumbling plaster.

Elizabeth had lived here for six months after her uncle's bankruptcy.

Her family still lived here. It made him feel both tender and anxious. Lady Catherine had not been the only threat she had faced, yet she was still so full of smiles and happiness and had so little interest in the opportunities to spend his wealth.

She hadn't asked him to help her family, though he'd privately determined to do so to as great an extent as possible.

They were expected, so before Darcy handed Elizabeth out of the carriage, her mother burst out of the house and exclaimed, grabbing Elizabeth from the carriage, "Oh, Lizzy! My clever, clever girl! You must have known! When you refused that odious Mr. Collins — I never blamed you for that — you must have known such a rich man was looking at you!"

Elizabeth flushed, "Mama, I assure you I had no such idea."

"Mr. Darcy, it is so, so good to see you once more! You look so fine and healthy! And you are so handsome! I never believed anything that horrible creature said about you. None of us did except _that_ horrible creature who abandoned my dear granddaughter — you must be Emma! Lizzy wrote us a great deal about how fond she was of you! You are such a pretty girl! I am Lizzy's mother!"

A gentleman wearing a subtly patched suit stood next to the door and a woman who, despite not sharing Elizabeth's features the way Mrs. Bennet did, had a cast about her face that reminded Darcy of his wife. Darcy met their eyes as Mrs. Bennet enthused and pushed to hurry them into the house. There was a slight smirk of shared understanding.

Darcy didn't mind Mrs. Bennet. Not yet, at least.

He suspected she would grow grating once she moved to Pemberley — Elizabeth had, of course, not suggested anything of the sort, but Darcy knew he must make the offer to her family to house them on his estate, and he was quite sure they would take that offer. Mrs. Bennet walked Emma, who smiled happily at her, up the stairs and they all followed.

He needed to get Elizabeth's family out of this house. The paint on the inside had peeled off. There were splinters coming from the banisters. Halfway up the stairs Mr. Gardiner called out, "Mind the soft spot. The wood is rotted through."

Emma gaily leaped up over it. Elizabeth said in a blushing voice, "I had forgotten."

Darcy reached out his hand to touch her on the back of the neck, to comfort her. He then curiously felt with his shoe. The wood of the step freely bent under his weight.

Mr. Gardiner said, "This room was an excellent deal — I am paying less than ten an annum for a room that can house all of us."

The room was cramped with low ceilings. Mrs. Bennet pulled Elizabeth to sit next to her and peppered her with questions about the value of the furnishings and size of the rooms in Darcy's London house.

Mr. Gardiner said, "Enough. It is a house."

Elizabeth had said she slept in this room with three of the children. There were only three rooms that the family was packed into.

A platter of cheeses and meats stood on the table. They looked fresh and inviting, though Darcy could recognize they were of a cheaper cut than what he normally had for luncheons. The tea pot simmered over the low stove. Darcy wondered how much they had denied themselves so they would be able to have _something_ to entertain the wealthy relatives with.

He knew they constantly denied themselves so that they could continue their payments on Mr. Gardiner's debts.

His man of business had looked into Mr. Gardiner and his finances, and one of the creditors who had accepted the slow pace of repayment that Mr. Gardiner could offer had applied to Darcy that he pay off the entire debt at once. It was natural that men who would accept that what little a bankrupt could pay was better than nothing, would pounce upon a chance to gain access to deeper pockets that could liquidate the entire debt immediately.

The children were brought in, and the room became crowded. Little voices bounced around. Emma and the older children of the Gardiners somehow became quick friends, while Mrs. Gardiner made the three-year-old daughter of Lydia sit on her lap and bounced the girl up and down as she giggled and reached at Elizabeth.

Elizabeth laughed. "Let me hold Fanny!"

Darcy looked around. He stood next to Mr. Gardiner and said, "You are doing a fine job with this room."

"We try. We may have suffered, but that is no reason to become uncivilized."

"Mrs. Darcy has always spoken so highly of you. I see why. That is her attitude toward any discomfort."

Mrs. Bennet exclaimed, "Why ever did you not tell me! I should have gone — if I had known that you had been on trial I would have _walked_ if I needed to so I could be there for you! You were so clever to marry Mr. Darcy. To think, I _never_ understood before."

Darcy said, "Mrs. Bennet, I am certain you were not told simply to keep you from worry."

He saw Elizabeth and Mrs. Gardiner share a glance. He rather suspected Mrs. Bennet had not been told precisely so she _wouldn't_ go to Kent until after the trial.

"It was not a kindness I wished! And they did not tell me about her marriage to you either! But that was such good news. I have said it so many times: Ten thousand a year! It's as good as a Lord!"

Unable to stop himself in time, Darcy said in a dry voice, "I have oft made that observation to myself with satisfaction as well."

He then looked shamefacedly at Elizabeth. She stifled a giggle and put her hand on his arm. "My husband is deeply impressed with his own consequence. He knows it would take a person of great _stubbornness_ to refuse him anything."

Darcy smiled at her, lost for a second in Elizabeth's eyes. "I would rather say that it would take great _character_ to refuse me something."

"Oh, Lizzy! You must refuse your husband nothing! Especially when he asks for you to…" Mrs. Bennet blushed and looked around. "If my daughter does not _satisfy_ you, I can instruct her. She was not given a proper talk before her marriage — I wish I had been there."

Elizabeth's face went scarlet. "We need no such advice."

Of course the children noticed something interesting was being spoken of, and Emma and the oldest Miss Gardiner turned from where they were chattering in a corner to look. Emma asked, "What advice are you talking about? What should Lizzy have known before she married? I want to marry someday!"

"When you are older, honey." Elizabeth patted Emma on the shoulder.

"Oh! It is about that — like what Lady Catherine said about mistresses and my mother. But I quite know all about _it_ already."

The oldest Miss Gardiner who was a year older than Emma gasped with astonishment and looked at Emma with admiration. "You must tell me then — Mama always says when I am older!"

Mrs. Gardiner said, "We ought to take the children for a walk. Lizzy, do come with me. Mr. Darcy, do you wish to come with us, or would you like to remain here?"

He could tell that Mrs. Gardiner wished to speak alone with her niece, and he knew how much Elizabeth depended on the older woman. "I would stay."

Elizabeth looked at him with a slight frown. He smiled at her.

She picked up her niece, Lydia's daughter, from Mrs. Bennet's arms and smelled her neck. Then they went with all of the children down the stairs in a chattering mob.

It was just Mr. Gardiner and Mr. Darcy left in the small room that seemed too empty.

"I am glad to see Lizzy so well settled. She always seemed happy, but she glows now. And your help during the trial… I shudder when I think about it."

"I shudder as well. It was — I include the dates of my parents' deaths — the worst day of my life."

"I am glad that you were there to help Elizabeth."

"I am as well." Darcy squared himself. He hoped he would not damage the man's pride. "I looked a little into your business matters after my marriage. It was a deuced bad luck that you made such an investment right before prices collapsed. But life goes on. How well are your skills being used at your current position?"

"No."

Darcy raised his eyebrows.

"I understand what you wish to do, but I shall not accept charity. I have my pride; I am paying my debts; I am supporting my children. I have no need for charity. I will not take your money."

"I am not offering charity. But it is good to employ family. You are a responsible man, used to managing groups of men and judging character. I can use you, and my wife would be pleased if more of her family were settled in the north."

"No."

"Do you doubt what I say? I can explain how it would be a good position. A real one."

"A position invented entirely for my benefit."

"It is not an invention when I claim that I have a great deal of business and can find a place for a man whose judgement I trust."

" _That_ is why I cannot accept. I do not trust my own judgement. I failed, and many people were hurt by my failure. It was a scheme I believed wholeheartedly in, and I lost."

"Business success if oft a matter more of fortune than of judgement."

Mr. Gardiner's mouth twisted up into a wry smile. "That is reason to doubt my judgement. I did not consider that I might lose. No, Mr. Darcy. I thank you for the offer, but I shall not let you hire me so you can say you are doing something for your family. Lizzy will understand that I am a proud man."

"What about your children — a better position will let them live in nicer conditions, and with a hope for better marriages and with the money for a better education. Your sons will have no capital to start with when they reach the age to begin their careers."

"They shall need to make their own way in the world. I still have friends who will help me to place them. I began with thousands of pounds in capital, but in the end it did me no good. I wasted it all."

Darcy shrugged. "Perhaps your children will have greater luck than you did."

"Mr. Darcy, I will not accept charity. That is my last word."

"This is a decision which affects your whole family. Should you not speak with your wife?"

"She understands. We make a living here. We will not sacrifice our pride for more."

Darcy looked at what was left from the luncheon which the children had not devoured. He looked at the cramped room with every inch of it carefully used. The room smelled clean and well cared for.

Darcy sighed.

He did not know what he could do. But he would not leave Elizabeth's beloved relatives in this situation no matter how much Mr. Gardiner wished him to.

 **AN: So who killed Lady Catherine?**

 **Before I tell you who was in my mind, I want to be clear that in a post modern way, I don't think my answer is necessarily more 'true' than your answer. I specifically wrote the text so that both Richard and Anne are consistent with everything you as the audience have. Perhaps this novel describes two separate worlds, and these worlds are identical from the point of view of our point of view characters, but in one of them Richard was the murder, and in the other one Anne was the murderer.**

 **Having said that, in the one of those two worlds that _I_ was writing, Richard was the murderer. He hated Lady Catherine, he justified it to himself because he thought Lady Catherine was on the verge of murdering Emma in some mostly legal way, and those two considerations were definitely more important to him than the chance to marry Anne, though that _was_ present in his mind, that everything would be solved neatly if Lady Catherine died. Until Anne sent the letter to the bailiff bringing the soldiers, Richard was quite sure that Elizabeth would first probably be acquitted, since after all it was unlikely she could have made the cut that killed Lady Catherine, and second, he and Darcy would be able to rescue her if she was not. However once Anne sent that letter, he knew he needed to confess to the murder, since otherwise there was good odds that Elizabeth would be hung for his crime.**

 **Anne herself had always suspected Colonel Fitzwilliam a little, and she thought he purely did it for the sake of being able to marry her. And she had spent years wishing her mother would just die, and she had said as much to Colonel Fitzwilliam, so if he did it, her husband and lover had murdered her mother because she wanted her mother to die, and thus she was half way a matricide herself. This is why Anne was so desperate to believe that Elizabeth was the murderer, and why she was so desperate to see Elizabeth hung. If Elizabeth did it, Anne then had no reason to feel guilty, and further she would not need to deal with her husband having killed her mother.**

 **A rather dysfunctional family...**

 **In other news, I am writing P &P novels again (I spent the first half of this year writing a fantasy novel), and I've determined that because of my recent mistreatment of CF, I owe him the chance to be properly awesome and at least the next three books I write are going to have a purely positive CF doing something important for the plot. My current work in progress though has him a bit too awesome for realistic fiction. Wickham will literally pee himself when he sees CF. (And then immediately flee back to London like the cowardly sewer rat he is)**

 **Anyway, thanks again for reading, and enjoying this story.**


	28. Chapter 28

Elizabeth happily walked along the street next to Mrs. Gardiner.

" _Do_ you have any questions about your marital duties? What your mother said — it is not true. In a good marriage if there is something you do not like to do, your husband should listen. But perhaps you are…doing it wrong."

"Lord! What are you speaking of?"

"You and Mr. Darcy talked about you refusing him — Lizzy, tell me about it."

"My marital duties?"

"Lizzy, if there is something that hurts or that you feel too embarrassed to do, there is no shame in telling me. I have been married many years and…I know a great deal about ways that men and women can…please each other. You can tell me what you don't wish Mr. Darcy to do."

Elizabeth had not expected the most embarrassing conversation today to be one with only her aunt. She shook her head wildly from side to side. "No! No! We have no problems with _that_. It is good. Exceptionally good. Truly good. Remarkably good."

Elizabeth's face burned far hotter as Mrs. Gardiner looked at her with an open smirk. She _had_ protested a little too strongly to appear demure and ladylike _now_.

Mama and the children had run far enough ahead of them so that Elizabeth and Mrs. Gardiner could talk in privacy. Elizabeth had given her mother a half crown to buy treats for all of the children at a stand in the park, and she immediately walked off guiding them, proud at being temporarily once again the one who could dispense favors to the children.

Her mother was capable with _other_ people's children. She would never be one to instill moral precepts, but she could provide an amiable supervision. Mama had many good features, but she was still…difficult. The natural action would be to invite her to live at Pemberley, but Elizabeth did not think Darcy would like her there. She felt pain at the thought of forcing him to support a crowd of relations he would despise, however well he hid it.

Elizabeth also didn't want her mother to live too close.

Mrs. Gardiner jostled her arm. "I had worried about your marriage. Despite the kind things you said about him in your letters, and the way that he supported you fiercely during the trial…all we knew about Mr. Darcy before was the poor stories we had heard — I admit our source was Wickham, but it is a shock that your view of such a man could be changed so suddenly."

"No. You do not understand at all."

"Lizzy, you spent two weeks with him between when you met again and this marriage. It is fast. Did you…did you really consider it, or were you desperate for help when in prison, and you liked the idea of finding a wealthy man to rescue you from the dependency you'd fallen into. I would hate to see you married to a man who you do not truly love. Or worse an impetuous man who made the offer without consideration and who will come to regret it."

Elizabeth looked thoughtfully at her aunt.

Mrs. Gardiner shook her head and looked away. "I apologize. I should say nothing — misfortune has made me a pessimist, and I do not like it. The decision cannot be undone. You should not even consider the possibility you made a mistake. I do not want to make you worry."

"No, no." Elizabeth grabbed her aunt's arm. "I am glad you told me your worry — but only so I can relieve it. There is nothing _sudden_ about our feelings. I thought fondly on his memory for many years and he — before we saw Pemberley, during the spring of the year my father died, I had met Mr. Darcy that spring. It was when I visited Mrs. Collins when she lived next to Rosings. Mr. Darcy asked me to marry him at that time, and I refused him then."

"Oh!" After her exclamation Mrs. Gardiner considered the matter. Then the fine boned features of her face shaped into an open smirk. "Given how you spoke about him at _that_ time, it is rather a surprise he liked you at all."

"I had never been so shocked in my life."

There was a call from the children. They were playing, and the younger ones stayed close enough for Mrs. Bennet to supervise while they ate through the treats she'd bought for them. Emma stood near Mrs. Bennet helping her order around the youngest children with a broad smile on her face. Emma picked up Lydia's daughter and staggered under the weight, but managed to keep her in her arms.

"The reversal of feelings is not a sudden matter?"

Elizabeth looked back at her aunt. "No. It was… He was so kind when we met. He treated me in a way that made it feel as though…as though I was still completely the same person, even though he knew about Lydia, and the bankruptcy, and he… I think I had been ready to fall in love with him since I saw Pemberley. I accused him of many things when he offered for me, and he wrote a letter explaining himself. When I saw him now… I _knew_ he was in fact an honorable and good man. And he has changed. He told me how he strove to become a better man due to what I said to him, even though he did not ever expect to see me again. And… I love him desperately and truly. It was not such a strange thing that it could happen so quickly when the conditions were right."

The warm sun beat on them. The trees and bushes were full of green, and birds flew from perch to perch. A cat with black and white spots ran across the pathway, and then rubbed itself up against Mrs. Gardiner's leg, hoping to be petted. The youngest of Mrs. Gardiner's children ran towards them, shouting, "Kitten!" In response the cat took off in the other direction.

Elizabeth and Mrs. Gardiner laughed at the disappointed expression on the boy's face when he arrived next to them and looked around for where the poor animal had hidden. Mrs. Gardiner picked him up and said, "The poor kitty doesn't want to be found. Maybe next time."

He nodded his head. Then he looked at Elizabeth and said in a shy, formal tone, "Aunt Bennet told me to thank you, Cousin Lizzy, for the treat. It was very good."

Lizzy laughed. "Oh! You like it! You did not eat too quickly?"

"No! No! I took small bites! Like Aunt Bennet told me."

"Are you _sure_ you took small enough bites?"

"I did! I did!"

They joined Mrs. Bennet and gathered the children together.

Elizabeth picked up Fanny again, who squealed and wrapped her little hands around Elizabeth's neck.

Emma trotted along between Elizabeth and Mrs. Bennet. Mrs. Bennet exclaimed, "And his sister will marry an Earl! Your brother will be an earl. Oh! I never imagined I might live to see such a good day. I always thought Jane would be the one who to make a brilliant match! But she is nothing next to you! Oh my dearest daughter!"

"Yes, Mama. Georgie, that is Miss Darcy, will marry in just four days. We will go out to Chancey tomorrow, and from there to Pemberley."

"You call her Georgie! A countess! I have heard so much about Pemberley! How I long to see it."

Elizabeth bit the inside of her cheek to keep from making an annoyed response. It was odd how her mother's praise bothered her _more_ than her usual complaints. Fortunately they then reached the building, and Mama took Fanny from Elizabeth and the children rushed up the stairs.

Elizabeth looked up and down the wooden structure, and she looked around the street. It was a little dirty, and the paint was peeling, some of the people who lived here dressed as workmen instead of gentlemen, and the streets were not kept perfectly clean. But now that she was Darcy's wife, and she would never need to live in such circumstances again, she was filled with a sort of nostalgic liking for the past.

Despite how crowded they were, and the way her mother still sniped at her because she had not married Mr. Collins, it had been a happy place and time.

Elizabeth looked at the window. Mr. Gardiner sat next to the window, looking down at them. How had he and Mr. Darcy gotten along together?

She put her hand on Mrs. Gardiner's arm to stop her once they entered the vestibule. She didn't look at her aunt, but quickly said, "Mr. Darcy has given me so much money — I have no idea what to do with it all, though I did let Miss Darcy buy me a ridiculous number of dresses — expensive ones — so do not think I am not spending money upon myself. I am. But here is something to help. I gave you part of my wages, this is no different."

Elizabeth pushed the money into Mrs. Gardiner's hand without looking to see how she took it and then started up the stairs.

Mr. Darcy sat in the worn armchair while Emma eagerly introduced Lydia's little girl to him. He accepted the introduction with a soft smile on his face. Mr. Gardiner sat with what Elizabeth recognized as his discontented air. It was the way he looked out the window during the months when his business slowly failed.

When the visit ended, Emma chattered excitedly the entire way home. Darcy was unusually quiet.

As soon as they were home, Emma went off to read a book. Elizabeth took Darcy's arm and pulled him into the garden courtyard that the three story house was built around. "How did you…enjoy your visit?"

Darcy made an annoyed face.

Elizabeth hurriedly said, "I am glad you came. You were polite. My mother was happy to see you. She told me again and again about how polite you were — and you were, even though you could not have enjoyed speaking to her."

"Would she like to live at Pemberley? Would you wish to ask her?"

Elizabeth made a face.

Darcy had that firm face he showed when he'd made a resolution. She pulled him to sit with her next to the blooming rose bushes in the courtyard. "I suppose we must."

There was a quirk of a smile on Darcy's face, and they both smiled at each other. He raised his eyebrows and said, "You could not possibly wish anything else: She _is_ your mother."

"I would never be an undutiful daughter — I am so glad you know _that_ about me."

"Yes. Any man who she wished you to marry…"

"I would. Without any thought to my own preferences."

"The most dutiful daughter ever — one who is very clever though at landing rich men."

"Yes. You know I could _never_ refuse someone as wealthy as you anything."

"I did not know that. But I am glad to hear it."

Elizabeth laughed. They smiled at each other and then they pressed their lips together and kissed.

She asked, "My uncle. You were together for some minutes. How did you two get along?"

Darcy shook his head with a frown. "He is the most exasperatingly stubborn man. The most bullheaded, and…I admire him. I do, but…"

This description of her uncle made Elizabeth laugh. "What happened?"

"I offered him a position, and he absolutely refused anything from me that could possibly be charity."

"Oh." Elizabeth giggled. "We both have run into this today. My aunt was not pleased when I gave her a substantial sum _either_. But I did not give her an opportunity to refuse me. We are proud. You must be delicate in such a case. I should have given the money just to my mother, but then it would be frittered away on trivialities."

"I offered him a genuine position — a man such as your uncle is a valuable man. If I paid him more than another with similar skills, he would still earn for me what I paid him. How much did you give Mrs. Gardiner?"

"No! You already gave me a huge sum, and then Georgiana spent much of it on my new dresses. I shall need at least a few months before such sums do not make my eyes pop from their sockets."

Darcy kissed her, and she felt the warmth from his soft lips on hers travel down her stomach and gather in a heat in her belly. He pulled away and grinned boyishly. "Do you recall what we were speaking of?"

Elizabeth looked up at him and blinked lazily. "No — my uncle." She pulled herself up into a more upright seat. "We must find some way to help them. One which keeps my mother at a pleasant visiting distance, by which I mean a distance where she only visits for yule and Easter."

"I should give _her_ the money, on the condition she continues to live with her brother."

"No, last time she had money she used it quite poorly—"

"An annuity then. She can only waste one quarter's portion at a time."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. Then she grinned. "My sister's daughter. You liked little Fanny did you not?"

"She was as charming as every three year old — she charmed me."

"Endow my niece with some money. She shall have a harder life as an illegitimate child, so it is reasonable for her to be the one you give such money to. Make Mr. Gardiner and my mother joint trustees of the money, with the requirement that the girl spends a great deal of time near London so that she can take advantage of the local art and music masters."

"If a minor heiress stays with the Gardiners, there would be enough money to move into a considerably more comfortable space. Of course your uncle may still be uncomfortable with that, but—"

"We wish the child to have an excellent father figure, and Mr. Gardiner already fills that role. He would not be able to refuse if we mandate in the gift of the dowry that my niece lives with both my mother and Mr. Gardiner for much of the year. And then Mama will not be able to spend _too_ much time at Pemberley."

Darcy looked enormously happier now. "But will Mr. Gardiner make a problem?"

"I think… He looked unsure this afternoon. I recognize that in him. His pride demanded he refuse the money, but the benefits to the children are such that he could not be _happy_ about it."

"Well, if you outsmarted him, _that_ is something to boast of. Will Jane's husband refuse if I offer him the next good living to open within my patronage?"

"I _hope_ not, I wish Jane to be near me!"

"I would be delighted with _her_ presence too."

Elizabeth kissed Darcy. It was wonderful how he was caring for her and those attached to her.


	29. Chapter 29

**AN: So everyone, I'm going to post today the last two chapters since they are both fairly short. I hope you all loved reading _The Trials._ I'm afraid there is not nearly as much fluff here at the end as there really should have been, so I'm afraid you need to imagine it went on for about another five or ten thousand words of sugar, which is probably the way I should have written it.**

The fine band Chancey had hired played a pretty dancing tune for the second dance of the open air ball after Georgiana's wedding.

Darcy easily led his sister through the steps. She delightedly grinned at everything. "Now, brother, we are both married! And so soon in time together."

The twist of the dance took Darcy and Georgiana apart then brought them back together.

Georgiana said, "Elizabeth is perfect! I only wish I could dress as well as she does. I thought I would need to help her when we shopped, but her taste is perfect. Look at that dress!"

Most of Darcy's idle thoughts today had gone to that dress. Most of his conscious ones had been about his sister's marriage. "Elizabeth _is_ perfect. But you are a perfect sister."

Georgiana rolled her eyes. "You are only glad that I am leaving so soon after your own marriage. I can tell you want some privacy."

"I would never say such a thing."

"And while I was not worried about after the marriage, since Mrs. Annesley told me what I need to know, Elizabeth's advice—"

"Georgie!"

His sister grinned at him. "Elizabeth said you would like me to mention how thankful I was for her advice about what to do after the wedding, you know when Chancey and I—"

"So I am being teased by _both_ of you now."

"I am not a child, you know."

"It still is strange for me. I shall depend on Chancey to take the best care of you."

Georgiana rolled her eyes. "It shall be me who takes care of Andrew! But he is the sweetest, most wonderful, dearest man in the world."

After Darcy's dance with his sister finished, he looked about for Elizabeth.

She wasn't anywhere on the large shaded platform that Chancey had set up for the celebration, taking advantage of the perfect mild weather of late summer. There were more than a hundred guests and during the three days of parties before the wedding Elizabeth had been introduced to all of them, and her combination of elegance and vivacity created an excellent impression.

Darcy walked to a footman stationed in the nearest corner of the pavilion. He stood in the brilliant scarlet and blue livery of the earldom, with a large crest for the house's coat of arms on his chest. "Do you know where Mrs. Darcy has gone?"

"A young gentlewoman asked to speak with her privately. They are sitting in that tent."

"A young gentlewoman? What was her name?"

"A Miss Smith."

Darcy felt an undertone of anxiety that he knew was unreasonable as he hurried to the tent he'd been pointed to. He opened the flap of the tent.

Elizabeth sat on a chair facing him tapping her hand against her leg in an annoyed manner.

Across from Elizabeth, and with her back to Darcy, sat a beautiful young woman who wore a flamboyant hat with ostrich feathers. Her hands were covered with rings that had large but cheap stones. The woman stomped her foot and did not realize Darcy had entered the room because she was intent on yelling at Elizabeth.

Darcy recognized her as Elizabeth's youngest sister Lydia.

"I swear I will! I'll tell all your rich friends about everything I've done. They won't like you much once they see you next to me! They won't! You had best give me something. If you are going to help everyone, you should help me the _most_! How dare you give my daughter something and then completely cut _me_ out."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and looked at Darcy. "Dearest, you have met my sister before, but it has been some years."

Lydia jumped and turned around in shock.

"Delighted to see you again." Darcy spoke in the coldest voice he could manage.

"You! Mr. Darcy! It is all your fault that everyone's life has gone so terribly! You ought to be ashamed of yourself."

Elizabeth snorted.

"If he hadn't denied Mr. Wickham the living, he would have married me — he loved me then."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "If he'd given Mr. Wickham the living, you never would have met Mr. Wickham, and you would have run off with some other adventurer who then abandoned you."

Darcy walked next to his wife, and placed his hand on her shoulder. He looked at her face carefully. She was not unhappy or worried.

"Lord! I will! I'll destroy your reputation! I'll tell everyone how Lizzy worked as a prostitute! Even I didn't do that! How could you! My sister!"

"I am shocked as well to learn about my past behavior. I had no idea."

There was a sly smirk on Lydia's face. "It doesn't matter that it is a lie. Someone will believe me. They will always wonder if you were a prostitute, and all of Mr. Darcy's friends will ask how much it costs _them_ to get a favor."

"Lydia Bennet." Elizabeth leaned forward with a harsh sneer. "I do not _care_. They will not do that because half of them already wonder if I killed a woman with a blow that supposedly only a man can manage. I was nearly _hanged_ two weeks ago. A pathetic attempt at blackmail from a woman who abandoned her child—"

"I left her for Mama and our aunt and uncle to care for!"

"—cannot frighten me. Tell whoever you wish, whatever you wish."

Elizabeth stood up and took Darcy's arm. He felt proud of her. Terribly proud.

"I will do it!"

"No, you will not." Darcy spoke firmly.

"You cannot stop me!" The girl laughed.

"I can. You are defaming the character of a gentlewoman _and_ you are attempting to blackmail her for a sum far greater than five shillings. Both acts are illegal. The first would be prosecuted by an ecclesiastical court and you would receive a large fine. The _other_ crime, that of blackmail, and on a false accusation of sexual immorality is a misdemeanor proven here in front of a witness. This is a misdemeanor crime which is subject to summary judgement by a local magistrate, such as Lord Chancey's brother, who has proven to be quite fond of Elizabeth. You will leave and say nothing further about the matter unless you wish to spend a day in the stocks."

"You wouldn't dare! Your own wife's sister."

Darcy raised his eyebrows. "I wouldn't?"

Lydia glared at him. She then flinched and threw her hands up. "It is very unhandsome of you, Lizzy, to be like this. La! But you never wanted me to be happy. Never! You told Papa not to let me go to Brighton, where I had so much fun. I have never forgiven you for that! Never!"

The girl marched from the room, the ostrich plumes of her hat waving.

Darcy looked at Elizabeth. "Do you wish to help your sister? No matter what you offer she shall ask for more, but I will follow your lead."

"No. I just… It is odd…how selfish she can be. If she had _asked_ for money instead of threatening — except she has no real need. You could see how she is dressed. She has enough money…"

Darcy kissed Elizabeth. "Enough of _this_. It is my sister's wedding, and you owe me a dance."

She smiled back up at him. "Do I? Then shall we?"

"We shall."

"Together, then?"

"Hand in hand."


	30. Chapter 30

Mr. Hawdry had a wild distorted face. He angrily shouted: _Justice!_

Elizabeth was in the courtroom again. Darcy was so pale. Hadn't she been declared innocent? The noose was around her neck. Hawdry was next to the lever, pulling it. She desperately tried to struggle out, but she was falling, falling, falling. So fast.

Elizabeth woke with a gasping scream.

She panted and grabbed her husband's arm, pulling it closer against her stomach.

Darcy stirred. "Lizzy…at's the matter." He spoke in a thick tired mumble.

The anxiety and adrenaline filled Elizabeth's stomach. She shivered and pressed herself against her husband's large warm body. She wanted to just be held by him.

"What is it?" This time his voice was clear and concerned. He pulled her tightly against him, just as she hoped he would.

Elizabeth smiled in love, even though he couldn't see it in the darkness. "Nothing."

"You had another nightmare."

"Which is nothing. Just a figment of the brain."

"I am sorry. Deeply sorry, I wish—"

She giggled, feeling better as he apologized for her having nightmares. It was a Darcyish thing. "Just kiss me."

They kissed softly and sweetly, then passionately, then softly again.

Elizabeth felt flutters of desire in her stomach, and she snuggled her head against the inside of Darcy's chest. She whispered, "Mmmmm, you smell so nice."

Darcy hummed and pulled her body closer to his.

"The nightmare is fading. I do not think I shall be permanently anxious — but Johnson was right, the prospect of being hanged does concentrate the mind."

"You never were likely to be convicted. I saw Mr. Holbein — he was the lead juror, the one who spoke the verdict — and he told me that he'd realized you were innocent quite early during the trial, and nothing Hawdry said changed that belief."

"Oh."

Elizabeth was quiet for a long time.

Darcy pulled his arm around her slender frame and squeezed her against his side. She loved how he squeezed her so tightly.

"Are you certain — I had been so sure…" Elizabeth laughed thinly. "I already told you that, did I not? I feel I have lost my senses and am still wandering in a daze. When the letter was shown… I had forgotten I wrote it, and it was such a surprise…"

Darcy pressed his lips on her hair, then her forehead, then her lips. "Put trust in our British institutions. As Mr. Godfrey said then, there is a vast distance between saying it would be a good thing if someone died and taking the action yourself. The jurors knew that. Once it was clear to them your flight did not indicate guilt but coincidence they knew their duty."

"Did he say that? I was unable to hear anything." Elizabeth shivered. "What you told me is a relief. It was a terrible moment for me."

Darcy was quiet. Elizabeth listened to the sound of his breathing. She could tell that he was still alert.

He said, "It was painful for me as well. That night, after the soldiers arrived." Darcy shuddered and pulled her close to him. "It shall be a miracle if I do not have nightmares as well."

Elizabeth kissed his chest. "Enough of this! Happier subjects beckon. Tell me how you fell in love with me."

She smiled up at him, with a mischievous twist of her lips.

Darcy beamed back at her, his features barely visible, but his happiness evident.

Elizabeth poked his ribs. "Speak; I shall not be satisfied until I have had a good account of the matter."

"I can hardly remember; it seems as though I have been in love with you forever. My feelings never faded in the slightest since we met."

She giggled. "You did not _always_ like my appearance — and do not speak nonsense. I _hope_ your feelings faded a _little_ in the four years following my quite rude rejection. If you claim you spent those years desolate and in deep spiritual pain, I shall think less of you."

Darcy kissed her, sliding his lips over hers for a long sensuous kiss.

Elizabeth poked her tongue against his lips and traced their outline. She pulled back. "Do not distract me! Were you crying each night in your room, and did you keep your windows blackened and write dark poetry like Romeo mourning his refusal by that other girl — the one he was in love with before he saw Juliet."

"Yes. Precisely that. I also refused to see my friends because they did not understand the depths of my despair. I never wore any color but black."

Elizabeth giggled and hit him on the ribs again. "Now I want you to be entirely serious — what _did_ you think when you saw me again as a governess?"

"I thought I was the unluckiest man in the world."

"No! That is a horrible thing to say — I understand _why_ , but you must come up with some better way to describe the moment when we tell the story to our children."

Darcy grinned broadly and squeezed Elizabeth's side. He then pulled his hand up along her body, feeling along the sensitive skin of her curves. "Yes, we shall have many children."

Elizabeth shivered in delight. "And there shall be much sport in their making."

"I sometimes think Shakespeare is not entirely appropriate reading for young ladies."

Elizabeth laughed again. "I shall choose what Emma studies! And it shall include the bard. She already adores him. And our future daughters as well. But do answer me better. You were so kind, but it still must have been shocking to see me lowered so far. And that I was so friendly after my previous rudeness."

"You were only friendly because Emma liked me."

"That _helped_. You are _very_ handsome when you show how good you can be with children."

Darcy grinned. "I know."

Elizabeth pinched him and giggled as he flinched away and rubbed the spot. "So it was all a plot to seduce the poor innocent governess?"

Darcy pulled her mouth to his for a long deep kiss.

When the kiss ended Elizabeth smiled at him, their faces inches apart. "You used Emma to seduce me?"

"We partnered together. She always was on my side — before the end of that wonderful walk in the woods, the day we skipped rocks, I _knew_ I still desperately loved you and wished to marry you. So I did always still love you. Though I did not write poetry, and I continued to lead an active and pleasant life. But no woman I met made me smile and feel desperate for her presence in the way you could with only a smile."

Elizabeth kissed him passionately. Then she said, "But _now_ I must have you explain the nature of this appeal I have for you. Detail it. What precisely about me do you like? I shall expect you to display some greater insight than the normal blindness of a lover, as you are a great judge of character."

"I have said _something_ of why I love you before." Darcy grinned; Elizabeth pouted.

"Your bravery, your intelligence, your sense of humor, the way you smile and tease. Also your figure. Even if I could resist it _alone_ , it certainly adds to your appeal."

"Abominable statement — to indicate your love for me is not purely spiritual and high minded."

"Yes, we both enjoy the…" Darcy grabbed and squeezed Elizabeth's rear again. She giggled and wriggled in his grasp. "We enjoy the pleasures of the flesh together — _your_ turn. How did you come to love me?"

"There was always…some attraction. You are a fascinating man — even when I completely misunderstood your character—"

"I had been quite abominable and rude then."

"And now you interrupt me." Elizabeth poked him again and giggled.

Darcy coughed. "I apologize."

She giggled. "You are the perfect husband. Even if you _do_ on _rare_ occasions interrupt me. I enjoyed arguing with you. And once I knew your true character. And…and the way you spoke to me. How you understood my lowered status and the scandal, but you did not care. And then you were so kind to Emma — I think by the end of that Sunday morning I too was in love with you as well. I had thought often about you in the years after you proposed."

"Oh?"

Elizabeth kissed him. " _That_ fascinates you. After my visit to Pemberley — and I am _very_ glad to be mistress of such an estate — I knew that there was more to you. Perhaps it was simply seeing how rich you were."

"I know you better than that. It was the flaming description Mrs. Reynolds gave me. I must give her a grand annuity should she ever choose to retire."

"Ha! I knew you were paying her to say all of those kind things."

Elizabeth's breathing evened out as she snuggled against his chest. Elizabeth loved being held like this. She felt safe, comfortable, and desirable.

Darcy nibbled on her ear and whispered, "About those children."

Elizabeth giggled. "I am not so tired

* * *

This, once more, is the part of the book where I beg you to donate to Doctors Without Borders.

I am not going to tell one of those heartrending stories about extreme poverty you have heard before. Instead I will tell you why it is extremely important to me to interrupt your book, a book you paid for, with a fundraising appeal.

Last summer my brother graduated from college. For the ceremony they sat a thousand relatives of the happy escapees into the real world on folding chairs in the beating sun and made them wait. And wait.

While we waited for the long march of engineering students to begin, so we could start to listen to speeches about life in the future, a projector cycled through photos of the graduating class. Each photo had a sentence where the student said what they wanted to do now that they had graduated. Make money appeared once or twice. Make Mom and Dad proud was far more common. Find a job was occasional.

By far the most common response, however, what around a third of the students said, was some variant of, "I want to make the world a better place."

Do you?

I do; I hope you do too.

I, like most of you, improve the world directly through my work. My best guess is that you collectively have spent at least a hundred times as many hours reading my first books as I spent writing them. I have changed literally years of lived human experience. That is a great reward for an author. Perhaps the rewards you receive from your job are different, but most likely someone's life is better because of what you do.

But we all can do more. I want to do more. I would not be able to pretend to myself that I am a good person if I ignored an obvious opportunity to help other people.

Donations save lives. We can literally do what superheroes do. So help me make the world a better place by supporting Doctors Without Borders, and make yourself a little bit more like superman.

You are at least vaguely aware of the statistics about preventable death. You have heard touching stories that end with the child living because of a lifesaving donation. You don't need to be told why you should donate to Doctors Without Borders or another organization that alleviates suffering. You already know.

So if you care about these matters, just do it.

Please, please, please. Be the change you want to see in the world. Do something which will make your children proud. Make the world a better place. Donate something: one percent of your income; ten dollars a month; something. Create a world where everyone has access to basic medical care.


End file.
